I've been on a Truman Capote/Harper Lee kick lately. I suppose it has something to do with the shift I've been making towards desiring artistic/inspiring friendships rather than relationship ones. I think we'll burn better this way. I think this will be sustainable.
I made this one for my dad Scott and also for my real dad, Jim. But I gave it to Scott. Scott has a beard now so he ruined it, but that doesn't mean I don't love him.
I had the flu, but I refused to admit I had the flu.
I sent out some well-intentioned e-mails to the tone of, "Look. Just because I don't care about Michael Jackson doesn't mean I don't care about you. I think he really tried, y'know? And after reading that wikipedia entry I don't think he's a kid toucher. I still don't care, but I won't call him a pedo jokingly anymore."
And these people in turn marvel, "I lived with this girl three years ago."
In the middle of In Cold Blood Perry Smith's sister really lets him have it in the nicest way possible.
"From what I personally know, you have lived your life exactly as you pleased without regard to circumstances or persons who loved you-who might be hurt. Whether you realize it or not-your present confinement is embarrassing to me as well as Dad-not because of what you did but the fact that you don't show any signs of SINCERE regret and seem to show no respect for any laws, people or anything. Your letter implies that the blame of all your problems is that of someone else, but never you. I do admit that you are intelligent and your vocabulary is excellent & I do believe that you can do anything you decide to do & do it well but what exactly do you want to do & are you willing to work & make an honest effort to attain whatever it is you choose to do?"
So now you have that for when you need to tell that person off, Perry Smith's sister did it for you. All these baby men, drifting. Not Scott, though Scott rules.