August 27th, 2009

Henry

Day 2

I'm calculating that my letter arrives either today or tomorrow. Considering that I mailed the letter to another part of the city, it really shouldn't take longer than a day to arrive. I'm such a dork. I forgot to specify in it that I had dreams of becoming a cartoonist back when I was in high school. But wait! Is that something I just told my asshole friends when they asked me what I was thinking of doing with my life? I never really was obsessed with that enough to appear geeky and nerdy. I see the effects of this in many people who come to my work to read manga and how-to-draw manga books. I would check out drawing books from time to time back in those days too, but I never really read them.

So. I'm nervous. I was nervous yesterday too, after I dropped off the letter at the postoffice. I had asked how much postage it would take and the clerk said the letter was exactly four ounces and that one forty-four stamp would suffice. I asked him "What? One dollar and forty-four cents?" reaching for my wallet, getting ready to pay. But he corrected me and said it would take a first class stamp. 44¢

I thought it would be more because I used a wax seal with a fig leaf embossed in it. I was sure the postoffice charges more for that kind of embellishment. I guess I got lucky that he didn't notice. At the same time, I'm expecting that I will see aforementioned letter back in my mailbox with an indication that it is being returned for insufficient postage. MFers! if that happens, might as well include a note on the envelope saying "next time don't get fancy with the wax seal, hosehead. This is how nervous I am.

I requested a photo for my troubles in pouring my soul, in the form of picture mail. I left my number. I have hers, but I don't have the balls to call her. She never called me back either. As if. Everyone's so f'in busy with getting on with their lives. That's why I feel stupid. Upon reflection, I realize while writing the letter, I kept thinking it would transend the hands of time one day when somebody will take note of this enormous love that I have been neglected of and research my life yadda yadda yadda. But no. In comparison with the heartbreaking love stories that take place in the real world, my feelings are nothing.

heaven et hell

A continuing saga—last installment

This evening I received only bills in the mail. It is the first time I am glad to see that my bills are only bills. The highly personal letter, with the ridiculous wax seal (which the post office charges extra to deliver), was not returned. Hurrah. I'm far from being in the clear, however, and there's still the unlikely event that aforementioned ex–gf never receives letter because it might be intercepted. Well, good! It doesn't matter to me that I heard rumors in my dreams that she had married one of my buddies from school. Isn't that shameful that I don't even know who she lives with?

On the other hand, I have the luxury of saying fuck my school friends, those good for nothing slackers. I like using English slang even though I don't know what they mean. Slackers, wankers, sods. I dunno. No time to look them up on urbandic.


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I stand corrected. And the contradictions continue.


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Sad but true. I guess if I can imagine that kind of thing happening, it's liable to happen to me. Think about it. If I were married to somebody like Catherine Zeta-Jones, you can bet your bottom dollar I would be suspicious of her whereabouts. I can't imagine that a marriage with a goddess could contain any trust. A person can tell themselves that they trust their spouse, but I think there's always a hairline of suspicion, which is probably healthy for the relationship. After all, isn't making your lover jealous right up there with being caressed?

  • Current Mood
    nervous