I meant to tell you days ago when I read your journal entry that has now disappeared that to get something into Good Vibes you practically have to hit them over the head. I used to go in every few weeks and say, "Do you have Torn Shapes of Desire? and they'd say no, and I would look very disappointed and tell them I wrote it, and I was really hoping they would be carrying it, and they would write it down and say they'd look into it, and after a few times, I think they might have started carrying it. It works better if you get a couple of your friends to do it too. And on the other stuff, chin up. You'll be okay. I have faith in you. Maybe you should take a writing retreat and come visit me for a week, eh?
You're back! Now I know why I was compulsively checking your journal every day even though you didn't post for weeks and weeks...I am envying you your thunderstorm, though I admit that the recent prospect of moving to Chicago has me fearing real weather, rather than eagerly anticipating it...
There are so many things that you've said lately that I wanted to discuss with you, but my brain can't hold them all, so we should just plan to have a good long natter when I get to Boston, eh? I hope you're not too busy with work on the 18th to talk to me!
Whyfor did you die on me? You were so sweet, so bright, so flickery in the big glass tank at the store...was my little tank not enough for you? Did you not enjoy the brief company of my other fishies? It was no fun pulling you out this morning with the big green net, though I suppose it was no fun for you either. Fishies should not die so quickly.
You will die soon too, but I should be gone by then, and in the meantime, you are most lovely. Do you think that if he has finally learned about flowers, that may mean there is actually hope for him?
You owe me $273.78. Pay up.
The Tao which is known is not the true Tao.
I'm not sure how that connects to your current dilemma, but it sounded wiser than any of the other advice I came up with.
Dear Kitchen Floor,
If you could manage to clean yourself, I would be eternally grateful. Especially the grungy bits between the stove and the cabinet. I cannot figure out how to get in there.
Dear Person Whom I Probably Owe an Explanation Which I Am Not Sure if I'm Up For Yet,
I didn't mean to hang up on you; I thought I said "bye" after "fine". But maybe not. But for the record, I was upset, not angry. I'll be okay soon; don't worry.
Dear Other Person Whom I Am Missing,
I hope you're doing okay.
Thank you for indulging my irrationalities once in a while. Man cannot live by reason alone.
You do realize that it would be better to actually talk to these people? Oh, good. That's something, anyway. Anyway, congratulations on coming to your senses about this Chicago-thing; sometimes you just have to trust him to know what he's doing, eh? And while we're at it, congratulations on managing to have a rational set of conversations on the subject, instead of pulling your usual work-yourself-into-a-tizzy-burst-into-tears-approach. At this rate, you may actually grow up someday. And hey, congrats on realizing that if you pull out the big break-up stick at every opportunity, not only will he start taking it less seriously, but you will be using excessive force, which will only be counterproductive in the long run. So good job all around -- now if I can just get you to take your medicine (missing the last two days, for shame!), eat regularly, and sleep a little, we might actually get somewhere.
P.S. Enough with the putting off the tasks you don't want to deal with. Just do them already! Sheesh! When are you going to learn, anyway?
Thanks for the format!)