Letter 7: Peace by Inches

Linds, I can tell you're kinda down. How can I tell? Because I'm kinda down. Not going to go into it, but things aren't going so well, Linds. Every couple of hours, I listen to Al Pacino's speech from Any Given Sunday. I'm going to type it up for you. I would just cut and paste, but that's lazy. I'm not. Let's begin.

I don't know what to say really.

[That's actually how I most prayers. And every conversation with girls.]

Three minutes til the biggest battle of our professional lives.

[Oh, and the battle is with yourself. You've each got a hatchet]

It all comes down to today.

[Everyday]

Either we heal, as a team, or we're gonna crumble.

[You need to get a handle of all your shit]

Inch by inch, play by play, until we're finished.

[Healing's an ongoing process. Allowing your self the time to heal is an everyday, hour at a time process]

We're in Hell right now, gentlemen.

[Okay, so you're a chick. But still in Hell]

Believe me.

[Seriously]

And, we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us

[High school taught me to go with option with the least amount of kicking]

Or we can fight our way back

[You'll notice, less kicking]

Into the light

[And not that dawn light that breaks over your glazed eyes when you leave a club after a hard night. The good kind of light]

We can climb out of Hell

One inch at a time

Now, I can't do it for you.

[I got shit to do]

I'm too old.

[Well, I'm not that old. But I feel that old. So let's keep it.]

I look around

I see these young faces and I think

[I can't really see your face]

I mean, I made every wrong choice a middle aged man can make.

[Despite not having been a quarter aged man yet, this still applies]

I pissed away all my money, believe it or not

[And while you probably still have pissable money, it's never too early to start rethinking lifestyle choices]

I chased off anyone who's ever loved me

[My sister's dog, when I was 12]

And lately, I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror

[My razor's been broke for weeks]

You know, when you get old in life,

things get taken from you

[Sure, you're what, 22? But making I Know Who Killed Me easily took off ten years.]

I mean, that's part of life

BUT, you only learn that

When you start losing stuff

You find out, life is this game of inches

[Much like fashion]

And so is football

[And so is fashion]

In either game, life or football

[Fashion]

The margin for error is so small

I mean, one half a step too late or too early

And you don't quite make it

One half second too slow, too fast

And you don't quite catch it

[That's how I dance. But with more flailing]

The inches we need are everything around us

They're in every break of the game, every minute every second

[Don't believe me? Go buy measuring tape. You'll find out.]

On this team, we fight for that inch

[Okay, so you're not part of a "team". I hear you like your sister. Let's call her part of your team]

On this team, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch

We claw, with our fingernails for that inch

[This is all metaphors. DON'T DO THIS!]

Cause we know when we add up all those inches that's gonna make the fucking difference between winning and losing, between living and dying

I tell ya this, in any fight, it's the guy who's willing to die who's going to win that inch

(Or girl. Or girls] [girl who's willing to die, not going to win a girl][or girls]

And I know, if I'm gonna have any life any more, it's because I'm stil willing to fight and die for that inch

[By have a life, I mean order some sandwiches from Yummy.com and watch a flick]

Because that's what living is.

[Sandwiches. Living is sandwiches]

the six inches in front of your face

[Just the right distance for a sandwich]

Now I can't make you do it

[But really, everyone loves sandwiches. I shouldn't have to make you]

You gotta look at the guy next to you, look into his eyes

[Again, look at your sister. Look into her eyes. Suddenly my hit count is going up. Finally]

Now I think you're going to see a guy who will go that inch with you

[By guy, I mean your sister. By inch, I mean out for sandwiches]

You're gonna see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team because he knows when it comes down to it, you're gonna do that same for him.

[Your sister knows that five, six years from now, when she gets dumped by a DJ, she can call you and you're going to come running, sandwiches in one hand, ice cream in the other]

That's a team gentlemen

[While you're not a gentleman, that's still a team]

Now ether we heal now as a team or we will die as individuals

[It's okay to let your sister in. Or a sandwich. They both have great healing powers]

That's football guys

[Also, fashion, ladies]

That's all it is

[Sandwiches are not that complicated. Unlike fashion]

Now, what are you gonna do?

[I recommend the Rueben, a nice cold glass of Cherry Pepsi, shopping around for original material you could develop, and sign up for some college classes]

Letter 5: Sleep Statistics (SD/EN)

L-dawg, I've got to ask. How do you sleep at night?

Whoa whoa, no reason to call the guards. And I'm not coming from some self righteous moral angle. I mean it literally. How do you sleep at night?

As I lay in bed last night, I thought about the times when, half-delusional from lack of sleep, I'd imagine a pair of arms encircling me as I fell asleep. I always thought it was a little weird, but it seemed to help me to sleep, so there you go.

When you start thinking about it though, most everyone has a similar thing going on. No one wants to fall asleep alone. We fall asleep to the TV, to the radio, talking on the phone. Even praying to God (which Bill Mayer tells me is a delusion and is directly leading to Nuclear War! Also, I'm responsible for The Crusades. I'm not exactly sure how) , all things we do so we don't feel alone when we fall asleep.

Since it's so universal, there must be something in us that desires to not sleep alone. I think it really develops right when you hit puberty (you could argue that it's there even from birth, screaming babies in cribs quieting down when handed a teddy bear and all that), which is right when most of us start to get an idea of what loneliness is. It's when we get emotional, depressed and mood swingy. They say most of us grow out of it as we get older, but I think it's less about getting older than it is about dating.

By the time we hit, say, 20, most of us have had an, if not serious, at least affectionate relationship. We've probably fallen asleep beside someone. Most of us have had sex. (Which, you know, I'm not for, but statistics don't lie)(Okay, statistics do lie, but statistically speaking, they tell the truth more often than not). We've experienced falling asleep not alone, even if only the thoughts of the other person were there. Even post-breakup when we're single, the "sweet delight" folk among us wrap themselves in the knowledge that they won't always be sleeping alone. The more "endless night" among us, on the other hand, due to anxiety, depression, self-doubt, statistics, or from listening to too much depressing music, wonder if that was the end, if we were only meant to sleep soundly for one too brief period of our lives and now, due to mistake or circumstance, have only our regrets to fall asleep to. Which generally causes the EN's to make rash judgements, going to bed with strangers, getting in bad relationships, deciding that love isn't meant for us.

There's no doubt you've just gotten out of a relationship. Even my rudimentary understanding of tab-rags attests to that. And looking at Sam Robson, she was probably a heck of a spooner (tiny, but with strong arms, what with the disc jockey'ing and everything). At the moment, everyone seems to care what you're doing, but not how you're doing. Which is sad. There's not much I can do about. We don't know other, and now that I've started a blog based solely around letter writing to you, I've virtually guaranteed we never will. Your handlers would lose their shit.

"He's that boy from the blogspot. He's probably crazy, probably got an axe in his trunk. Like that guy in Dementia 13. Or Night of the Creeps!"

But if you'll allow me to begin again.

How do you sleep at night?

Letter 3: Let The Right One In

Linds, do you have any plans for tonight? Because you need to cancel them.

Instead, head over to the video store and rent, scratch that, buy, scratch that, buy two copies and mail one to me, Let The Right One In.

I'm going to be honest here. I love vampire movies. Love them. And it's tough, being a vampire movie lover. It's akin to watching a loved one suffer through a terminal illness. They have their good days (Lost Boys, Near Dark, Dracula, From Dusk To Dawn) but it's mostly bad days (Vampz, Dracula 2000: 1-3, Vampires: The Turning, Ultravoilet [which really doesn't count, in more ways than one]).

But Let The Right One In is everything that's good and holy about vampire movies. It's creepy, it's oddly sweet, there's blood, someone bursts into flames. And the whole thing is filmed so beautifully it made my optical nerves explode (EXPLODE!) with joy. It's a gorgeous film, full of white and reds. Even the Rubik's Cube is lined up beautifully. I don't know if you're a subtitles girl (the gossip rags tell me you're not, but I hear you like The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, so there is hope), but that really doesn't matter. You can turn those puppies off (heh, turning off puppies) and just let the story unfold before you. From the initial snowfall to the poolside massacre, it's fantastic. I would marry this film.

You hear me California?! You won't stop me!

Letter 2: I Couldn't Make This Shit Up

Linds, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're depressed. It's okay. Nothing to be ashamed of. Completely natural. 

Now, being an extrovert, you're probably saying to yourself, I'm going to go out and do something. Do something to cheer myself up. I'm going to go have a couple of chili dogs and see a standup comedy show.

Now, standup comedy is a time honored tradition. It's hilarious. It's American. We love it. (Go back and say that line to yourself in Obama Voice) But I feel I should warn you:

Glenn Beck is going on a comedy tour.

Glenn Beck, "I wish the 9/11 families would just shut up before I start to hate them, BTW, I wish we all felt like we did on the day of 9/12, full of love for our country [But not the people in our country. Don't love them. No sir. Not a drop]" is going on a comedy tour. To entertain people. With his comedy. The comedic stylings of Glenn Beck.

Maybe you're saying to yourself, "Self, I don't believe this guy." And that's fair. I wouldn't believe me either.

On the upside, this could really be hilarious. Just for all the wrong reasons.

Letter 1: Existentialism On Prom Night

Have you ever listened to Straylight Run's first CD, Existentialism on Prom Night? Because you probably should. Not too much, but you should definitely give it a spin or two. I know you're a go-out-and-do-stuff kinda girl, but my advice: Go to blockbuster and fill a bag up with all those movies you've always meant to watch. Get some takeout, order pizzas and home delivery grocery shop for a week or so. Order some Saul Williams books off of Amazon. Give yourself some time. You just had a breakup. It's supposed to hurt for awhile. I think I'm going to write a screenplay about how you reach that point in life where no matter the successes you've had, you've still got disappointments, and those tend to weigh heavier, way heavier. Which is a depressing idea. Being a depressing idea, it probably won't get sold. Which is even more depressing. And futile. Then again, I'm sending a myspace message to lindsay lohan, who I'm more than sure doesn't take the time to go through her myspace messages. Nothing personal, but you've probably got a lot going on. I'm the king of futile. Now, go rent Brian De Palma's "Sisters".