Friday, April 29, 2011

Letters - 1

Dear girl sitting across from me in the common area of school,

Hey. Hey girl. You're somewhat attractive. You're sitting there with your Mac, listening to no doubt hipster music. I shouldn't judge. I'm listening to obscure R&B from an alternative hip hop collective based out of L.A. Holy shit. I'm a hipster too! Oh no. Anyways, girl, you're somewhat attractive. But you could do with a little bit of makeup. Just a little. Enough to enhance what's natural on your face. Also, try buying some trousers that aren't cargo pants. Hehehe I said trousers. That's a great word.

Here's the thing, girl sitting across from me in the common area of school, we're purposefully ignoring each other, working on our laptops, playing with our iPods and checking our phones for texts that are from either: 1) mom, 2) same sex platonic friend or 3) opposite sex friend that we have designs on.

I feel so numb, so isolated from you, girl I don't know. I feel like I want to know your story. Where are you from? Where did you come from? Were you born in my city, or did you move here from someplace interesting? Shit, I don't know. This would involve me having to talk to you. It's not my crippling social anxiety that prevents me from talking to you. Lady, I don't even have social anxiety. You put me in a karaoke bar, and I turn into Eddie Vedder and David Lee Roth combined.

So why can't I talk to you? I guess I'm just not interested. I'm so wrapped up in my electronics and gadgets it's like a comfort blanket. Shit, girl, who you texting? Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? What are you like? Would you sing along to Katy Perry on the radio as we drive to BDI for milkshakes in the summer heat? Would you argue vehemently with me on something stupid, like which Back to the Future movie is the best (quick answer: the second 'cause it's batshit insane)? Would you want me to come with you to some silly show where some silly hipster band in ironic beards play atonal noise and we pregame in my car with cans of Lucky?

I'm just curious, girl I'm not attracted to.


Dear mainstream comic books,

Fuck you. Sorry about my anger, but I'm pissed off. I want to review comics, but I can't muster enough enthusiasm to read all of the shit that's being published. Also, comics are ridiculously expensive. I have so much shit in my longboxes already, and I don't want to have to buy a sixth one. This doesn't even count all the shitty trades I have. At least I'm not obsessed with keeping up with titles, like Spider-Man or the Uncanny X-Men. Thank god for that. But I do want to review comics. I like reviewing things. I like writing. But you're making it so hard, mainstream comic books. You're all the same and you piss me off.


Dear fat guy who wears Blizzard shirts all the fucking time,

Hey man. How it's going? You know how we're in class together for all of this semester, and you took this program back in the day, but you've returned for some mysterious reason? You know how you know a lot about Java and this program is simplistic for you? Well... I thought I'd let you know. You're a douche.

Yup. Sorry to have to break the news to you. Remember that time that our teacher offered to give the class a piece of the code for Assignment 5, and you raised your hand, and you said, "Yeah, but, are people going to learn if they get the answer?"

Pal, I gotta tell you. That's my problem, not yours. You're not the teacher. You're just some fat guy who's never been able to get a real job so you're back at school at 34. If I don't learn and I fail the exam (which I ended up doing anyway) that's my fault and not your concern in the slightest.

Let me reiterate that for you. It's not your concern in the slightest. Do you realize how much an arrogant dick that made you sound like? No, I don't think you did. Or when I was having problems with the code, and while asking for help from the teacher, you leaned across the aisle and condescended to inform me that the problem I was having was a lack of a "for loop"?

OH REALLY. Dude, seriously. If I wanted your help, I would have asked you. I fucking hate you. I hate your Blizzard shirts. Listen, go to the mall, go to the Gap and buy a nice collared button up shirt. You don't even need to buy an expensive one. Just get something other than t-shirts.

And fuck right off.


[This is the first in a series of posts where I write letters to people and things.]

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