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Dear Michael,

You are so funny. Got your postcard today. Valerie screamed with�
laughter. (Not at your headache silly, the card.) I miss you, or did I�
say that yet.

In your letter you said, there's things you want to talk about and not�
write about. Me too. I even typed some stuff all in, then deleted it,�
in a number of different letters. Nothing dreadful, just stuff better�
done face to face. It can all wait.

Would you want me to do something for your zine? Any ideas what I�
should do? Suggestions gladly accepted!

I wish I had a photo of you. That sounds so dumb, like a high school�
girl or something, but so what.

My ex-boyfriend Michael (har) who lives in Washington (har har) is�
graduating from Evergreen State College this year. He's going to�
Europe with his lesbian girlfriend (they have sex and everything) on�
his parent money. He called me this week. He is {\it such} a snooty�
punk intellectual. The least energetic person I know who is still�
smart as fuck. How I ever fell for him I'll never know. He's so grubby�
and cares so little for how he looks. His parents are both seedy�
intellectuals, and get this, both are {\it librarians} in New York�
Shitty. Sheesh. I met him the summer before he went to school there,�
so the graduation thing is kinda signifigant, timing-wise. Wierd,�
huh!?

What else did I do this week.

I've been adding more to my loft in my room. About half the room is�
now lofted. I built two ugly wooden boxes, mounted in an L-shape under�
the skylight, filled them with dirt, and planted climbing flowers,�
peas, and some ivy I stole from down the street. Hopefully they won't�
all drop dead, and will grow up to the skylight. That's the idea�
anyways.

There was another protest/march Friday night. I did not go. I don't go�
to them anymore; I find them alienating. The papers and cops have�
always talked about ``professional protesters''; I always thought that�
it was funny, even though completely stupid. Now I realize, it's�
almost true! There {\it are} protesters that show up to every single�
event, almost no matter what. They don't do much else, but they march�
around, spraypaint things, and get arrested like it's some badge of�
courage or something. (Maybe it gets them laid or something.) The�
spontaneous ones are different, like the verdict Thursday, or the�
first days after the war started. But this was one of those, start�
from a small park at 5PM on Friday afternoon, then march to another�
park, or shitty hall, or some place that's all closed up anyways and�
chant some slogans or something.

300 people were arrested, for really no reason at all. They even 
tear-gassed some people. It was completely peaceful and completely�
non-destructive. This is very wrong. And, the protest is stupid to�
begin with. It's hard to work up any enthusiasm. What a mess!

I've been feeling pretty lonely this week, for no particular reason. I�
tried to call you on the phone again, but no luck. Call collect�
sometime. I'll call you right back (it's cheaper that way). Mornings�
are OK, or late at night.

Maybe you don't realize how unique you are. I think you're pretty�
amazing, which maybe you don't believe me or something. You do certain�
things, actually a combination of things, like working with retarded�
people, asking the right questions and doubting the right things�
(though you're too hard on yourself I think!) and while you're pissed�
off, you haven't given up hope. Lots of other important reasons, too. I�
like you a lot.

Work is ``done'', but they have me back for a day or so of a few hours�
each, which I don't mind, as it's good money. 

I actually bought some music. JACKOFFICERS (some Butthole Surfer�
people doing wierd house-like music; not very good), a Janis Joplin CD�
(I've always wanted some of her songs; some are good but it's not as�
good as I thought it would be) and a Jimmy Sommerville collection of�
singles. 

Well I'll shut up now and go to Klubstitute.


PS: Your brain never sounds as dry as you seem to think it does\dots


\bye
