I have been reading your work for many years and came to the conclusion we are kindred spirits. I often wake up thinking I am a Praying Mantis. Not the case, although I do rub my hands together a lot.
I also am convinced the authorities will arrest me for no reason. I double lock all my doors. I live alone in a modest house on a dead end. I have no friends.I wander the streets at night with no purpose or destination. The world is scary and unpredictable.
I also wrote to a painter by the name of Evard Munsch. I believe he is also overwhelmed by the horrors of everyday existence based on the content of his work. Perhaps the three of us can meet and go bowling. Then stop somewhere for coffee and meaningful discussion.
I, too, am a writer.I have sold nothing yet, but people say I have talent.
Looking forward to meeting you.
Sincerely,
James Joyce
Showing posts with label letter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label letter. Show all posts
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Letter to Mom in Prison
Dear Mom,
How are you? I hope you are being treated well. I know you must be feeling down. Two years is a long time. Maybe if you had apologized it would have been less. But you are who you are.
Using a machete on the salesgirl at A.C. Moore because they ran out of magenta was a moment of rage I'm sure you regret. I think the mistake was carrying that thing in the car. I know you're a serious artist and things sometimes get under your skin. Her arm has been reattached and she's moving on with her life. I suppose a civil suit is coming. People are touchy these days about assaults with dangerous weapons.
Thanks for sending the photo of the new tattoo on your back. Satan mounting one of the Kardashians is certainly provocative. I can't tell which one, but that's not important. I did find some of your drugs in an old jewelry box buried under the ash remains of Missy, our dear departed poodle. I was looking for something to hock in exchange for food money. I and your six other kids have been snacking on Skittles for days. Not enough protein there.
Dad sends his regards. He's been quite kind and supportive when he's home and conscious. By the way, this hand grenade I found in the shoe closet--is it the real thing or a replica? Might be good to know.
Take Care. Miss you, Your loving son.
How are you? I hope you are being treated well. I know you must be feeling down. Two years is a long time. Maybe if you had apologized it would have been less. But you are who you are.
Using a machete on the salesgirl at A.C. Moore because they ran out of magenta was a moment of rage I'm sure you regret. I think the mistake was carrying that thing in the car. I know you're a serious artist and things sometimes get under your skin. Her arm has been reattached and she's moving on with her life. I suppose a civil suit is coming. People are touchy these days about assaults with dangerous weapons.
Thanks for sending the photo of the new tattoo on your back. Satan mounting one of the Kardashians is certainly provocative. I can't tell which one, but that's not important. I did find some of your drugs in an old jewelry box buried under the ash remains of Missy, our dear departed poodle. I was looking for something to hock in exchange for food money. I and your six other kids have been snacking on Skittles for days. Not enough protein there.
Dad sends his regards. He's been quite kind and supportive when he's home and conscious. By the way, this hand grenade I found in the shoe closet--is it the real thing or a replica? Might be good to know.
Take Care. Miss you, Your loving son.
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