October 8th, 2006

MacCauley

Another letter I will not send

I have a painting on my wall titled Another Letter I Will Not Write. It's by an artist named Amy Willis who dispayed her work at the coffee shop at which she was employed in 1998 in Boise. Coffee News I think it was called. I actually wanted another painting she did and the proprietor promised it to me but reneged despite my paying for it. I took two other paintings of hers instead, including the one with the letter.

I've written at least two letters (more counting rewrites) to someone who I recently found out has been lying to me for years. I've crumpled each up. I don't know what I want as a result. I'm a believer in the adage that my feelings are mine to own. I cannot simply dump them on another person to make them responsible. So I've written the letters in the hopes that getting them down on paper would help me resolve them, and that I would not send them. But I've also got an emotional drive to let the other person know how much I am hurt. It's telling me that this is a case where sending the letter is the right thing to do, but I don't know.

So I'm going to sit on it at least one more night and watch more episodes of Lost. I'm really hoping that something will clear up one way or the other, giving me direction.
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Now reading

Now reading: Prisoner of Trebekistan, by Bob Harris

Finished the 6th Harry Potter a few nights ago, but still don't have it up on Rat's Reading.

I feel like Stan Lee plugging various Marvel comics there. Prisoner of Trebekistan feels like a conversation, or like surfing the world wide web. The part I just read is about free associating, and then I noticed when I wrote that plug that I was thinking of Stan Lee. I can't remember his Marvel Comic plugs directly, but I vaguely remember Marvel Age and something like a page in other comics wherein Stan occasionally appeared. My fuzzy brain is assuming this is where the association between plugging and Stan Lee comes from. And y'all are certainly welcome and encouraged to plug Rat's Reading too. Earlier today I googled myself and was disappointed to find out that none of the results in the first 33 pages were me. There's a fairly well-known author and journalist with my name out there, as well as some guy who runs an auction house and an associated rare book store. So I fall way down on the list. I'm findable, but you gotta add in other search terms to pick me up (as I'm sure spacemage did to find me).

Anyhoo, back to Prisoner of Trebekistan.