letter

I figure I should come back in a big way
Right?
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Dear patrick,

I hope all is well in chicago. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to write you. Me and ----------- broke up. You might have heard or you might not. I think I didn't love her anymore. I'm with this new girl now named -----------. Shes turbulent and young. I dont know what to make of her really, Its only been two weeks and we've almost broken up twice. I was so used to ---------- calculated routineness that it's a culture shock to be with -------. I'm scared for my future I think. Im trying to hold on vainly to the scraps of childhood I have left. Im 17 years old and in a few months I'll be 18. I probably don't have enough money for the Academy of Art, but I will probably end up riding it out in debt and going there anyways.
Is it ok to hate yourself? I hate myself I think. I've hated myself since I was 8 years old. Ive never really told many people, but I tried to kill myself 2 times. I didn't tell -------------, even though at the times of the attempts we were seeing each other. I think she would have freaked out or something. I'm considering taking up smoking cigarettes and drinking as well. Ive never done either, and I would like to experiment. Maybe not. As usual Im all talk and no game. I need help I guess. I consider myself a failure and little is keeping me from trying to kill myself again. I need something to live for. Right now there just isn't. I don't even draw as much as I did before. I haven't done graph in ages. I feel worked myself into something I really like and then when I broke up with -------------- everything went to hell. Me and ------------'s relationship was good, but I felt married at 17. Who wants that? I think I'm falling in love with -----, and I don't want to because she so wishy washy about everything. I listen to the Locust now. More than I should probably. Something about the pure energy and anger that just pours out of the music attracts me to it likes moths to a flame. My dad always said "Nobody said life would be easy". Hes right you know. Its really not. Shits hard. I feel like an outside again. Its fucking 6th grade all over again for me. For all arguable reasons I have, I should be happy, but Im just not. I guess time will tell. as it always does. I hope this letter finds you well.

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I remember the precise moment I read this letter last year. I was walking, it was windy and my scarf was wrapped tight but still flailing a bit. It was in the midst of some personal turmoil, the kind that routine cold weather and big personalities (mainly my own) can bring on. I open this envelope with expectations, not exactly positive ones, although I always find a letter to be some kind of relief. I opened the envelope, draw the letter and walk and read, only to read the first quarter of it and need to stop. I needed to asses the situation, the first reading of this letter much more seriously than I was. It almost brought me to tears, which is what other peoples unexpectedly disjointed, fragile narratives mixed with exhaustion does. The letter told me many things I never knew about its writer, but it also told me to stop, to rest and understand the severity of human endeavors. It was nice, sure it cut down to the bone, but sometimes thats nice right?

I want readers to know the writer of this is drinking smoking, sinning, unattached to a significant other, living, drawing, breathing deep, and hopefully taking it easy from time to time. If you are in the central coast you may see some of his wonderful art up in public places.

little recent anecdote I love about this person
I was recently hanging out with them while back in California. They said they had recently picked up a hitch hiker on a whim. I believe my the writer descibed the girl as a nice looking hippie. During the drive, the hippie, after hearing enough of the relentless metalcore piercing what could have been a quite drive, she turned to my friend and said "You are fueled by hate"
They said "your damn fucking right, but that is still rude, how dare you" and continued to drive to where the girl needed to go.
That is what made me realize that this person is not really fueled by hate, completely.

LETTER

yet another one that did not make it up from last year

you will read it is from someone I regularly correspond with
I must say that her views of sharing life, the joy she gets from hearing my life, is much reciprocated. There is something liberating about a static view of ones current place. I understand that humans by nature are dynamic and changing, but you must admit a letter, when written with sincerity, is an unchanging glimpse into the character of the writer.
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Patrick; my correspondance, my friend, my colleague

I am so happy to hear from you. I am especially delighted to hear of this -------- character- he seems magnificent ( I wish to meet? someday?). I hope your relationship is not some regurgitation of social stereotypes, but if I know you at all, I'd say definetly no. No to the utmost extent. And good for you either way! Now I'm just babbling.
Incidentally, today someone called me a monster, she said "You monster!" as I was trying to convey my personal affinity to stoic philosophy. Seems a little much don't you think? It isn't all that monsterus to identify ones own emotions, but choose to act with reason and rationale instead. She actually proclaimed this unflattering babel when I stated that I care very little about my daily social interactions as I am quite satisfied with my society of friends and I like my privacy- my seclusion. Still, monster? Me? No.

I am, or rather have been, brushing up on my Carl Jung, whom I've never really liked until now. He's a bit too spiritual perhaps, but a scientist nonetheless. I bring this up because his understanding of archetypes is altogether comprehensive and continually echoes Joseph Campbell. Speaking of spirituality, --------- ---------- came up to visit and we spent the day in the woods tripping on shrooms- we became transcendentalists then which left me with thoughts that my existential self has yet to shake off. Drugs may change me, do they not?
I love to hear of your life. I love reading both the joyus and the unfortunate events and everything in between of your mental status and "feelings" and such. Meanwhile when I don't have your letters to read I've been making soap, essential oils, glycerin, bio fuel and other exciting chemical "operations" as I indulge my thirst for knowledge. Quality stuff I must say. I m happy at the moment which is punctuated by the pleasant weather as you noted. I consider it a good sign that nature effects us so we have not lost our primeval ties. Respondez vous!


PS: I love how Carl Jung speaks;
" Miss Frank Miller is an introvert... Her psychic energy has turned inwards to produce these unconscious archaic residues... her unconscious need to separate and her inability to do so indicate that she too will be 'engulfed in a landslide"


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side notes:


Written also on this envelope were beautiful quotes, I believe that were spoken by Carl Jung
- life is sickness, torture, death, and finally rebirth
-Is God the same as the unconcious then? As self and God are so hard to differentiate!
-It is the aim of anyone seeking wholeness of self
-Better keep the archetyopes of God and the self seperate!
and my favorite
- A numinous expirence of 'something whole' is not only the privilege of shamans and priests


since reading this letter again and again I have looked breifly into the life of Joseph Campbell, and he to me is so many wonderful things. In the preface to his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces "My hope is that a comparative elucidation may contribute to the perhaps not-quite-desperate cause of those forces that are working in the present world for unification, not in the name of some ecclesiastical or political empire, but in the name of human mutual understanding."

ghahhsdhjkdsfkljhds
I am sorry it is hard to write with composure now, maybe it is because I have not been in school for a few months, but the more I read about Joseph Campbell the more I love him. A man of letters, a man who reguards myth as a the sacred product of feelings that are universally human, this man is in many ways who I want to be.

dont call it a come back

Here are some old letters that never happened to be unposted

the first is centered around self realization
the recognizing of actions and behavioral patterns, at least to me, is very important
to me it is the pinnicale

you may take this moment as your outline for alteration
you may take it as a moment to rejoice in your achivements
or you may damn yourself again to old destructive ways
ignorantly so or with conviction
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May 2, 2008


Salud Patty,
What up Motha licka

It is I, --------, of the ------. I have started at least 7 letters to you, never to get more than two pages in and decide there is no way I will mail it. Why? I aked myself tha too, actually I stopped asking myself that awhile ago. Why is it that such a silly that can only lead to absurd answers.

Today my letter will be about something personal, something right now. But also forever. I am a bitch. I know it, anyone I ever get close to knows it. I'm mean, I put people down, subtley and constanly, until they no longer want to be my friend. Its a pattern. Anytime I get close enough to someone, enough to let my guard down, I critisize them until they until they can't stand being around me. I did it to -----, to ------, to -------- and ------, to ------, and now to -------. I always make excuses when I see these friends try to retreat. The excuse I made to ------- was sort of an eye opener though. We were at --------- and we had just done E and I was trying to explain how sorry I was for being like I am, and he told me I was only like this to the people I loved. I think I must find faults and exploit the. Why do I do this?

My mother's response was that I have the gift of attracting extraordinay people to be my friends.

I'm going to try to make an effort to make it up. I know that this sounds half hearted - and who knows, knowing me- but I would love to make it up to -----, because the people I do this to are the people I am afraid of losing the most. A letter to you, I guess, is a start. I wish I had the nerve to send you some of my other beginnings of letters, but they sound retarded to me. I actually did finish one, put it in an envelope and everything, but when I reread it, it was so sad.

Love,
--------------

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I must admit that for this persons privacy I had to bend some phrases
also if they are reading I want them to know I love them and miss them
I always will