Extremely long, embarrasingly inappropriate letter to a girl in Bible Study, named Tina

BEGINNING

This is not your usual letter. First, I guess because you never get letters from me, so any letter is unusual. It’s hard to know where to begin a letter to a person you’ve never written to especially when it’s someone you see about five times a week and don’t really talk to that much. I suppose the proper place to begin is with a Greeting.

“Dear Miss Hansell…” oops, that sounds pretty serious. How about, “Hey Tina! Yo-baby, what’s hap’n?” Well, that’s a little more what you’d expect, so I’ll leave it. No need to get too involved in the greeting ‘cause pretty soon I’ll have to put this pencil down and go to Bible Study. Then this will be obsolete because I will have seen you and perhaps even have said “Hi.”

Well, it’s time to go and I still haven’t said anything. At least when I pick this back up I won’t have to struggle with a greeting.

(Later)

Well, I’m back. I kind of looked forward to getting back, so I could take up our little conversation. This is a perfect way for me to converse because I can do all the talking and you can’t say anything back. Well, that’s not all that great. It’d be nice to actually have the other person talk to you also.

Does it seem strange that I should write to you? I feel a little like I’m trying to get away with something. Really, I’d like to be able to call you and talk or whatever, but I’d feel REALLY STRANGE.

The truth is that I think you are a very Nice and Interesting Person and it would be fun to be Friends. Not that we are presently enemies or anything. Like am I making any sense? Maybe I’m just babbling and you are just nodding your head and saying, “Yep. He’s flipped. Wait ‘til I tell My Dad and Rob and All the Counselors.”

Well, I guess you could do that. I could probably use a rebuke for one thing or another. However, I really don’t mean any harm and you wouldn’t want to crush your little Pen Pal without even returning his letter. (would you?)

Summing up what I’ve said in all this so far:

I.               Hello

II.             I am writing you a letter

A.    I feel somewhat strange about this

III.           Let’s be friends

IV.           Please answer this letter

(continued)

MIDDLE

So, since we’re going to be friends (see how bold I am when absent…) let’s begin with a few questions:

I.               How are you?

II.             What’s it like having Bob for a Father?

III.           Are(n’t) you glad you Moved to California?

IV.           What makes you tick?

V.             Do you think I’m prying and should I BACK OFF BEFORE YOU BELT ME IN THE MOUTH?

It’s getting time for beddy-bye so I’ll be signing off. Over and out.

(The Next Day)

Hey, how interesting…I am at work right now, and it is lunch time—this job is very Kick Back. I sit in front of a Computer all day and wait for the phone to ring. It has been Dead, and so I have nothing to do at all, but even if I did, I can always hide inside my cubicle and take a break. Fascinating, I’m sure.

The people here are also Very Kick Back. There is never any pressure except from The Customer. There are 3 people in the office with me, a Receptionist named Kay (who talks and acts exactly like Gloria—Wacky). Jeannie, who does Purchasing/Order desk is an ex-machine shop worker with a very blunt disposition and a vocabulary like a Truck Driver, but not as mean.

Karen is the manager-to-be. She scares me because she’s the only one who knows how to run the place and she’s been here only a month. She’s a Trekkie (Star Trek Fanatic) and an oldies freak. Prior to her coming, we worked in silence, now we listen to K-ODJ All Day Long.

The Dress Code is Very Casual—Jeans, T-Shirt, Sneakers. Many are the days I do not even shave—or shower—for weeks! (Kidding, of course).

I haven’t mentioned lunch—Burgers, Fries and Coke usually, from across the street (or sometimes “the Teriyaki Special.”  We won’t go into that). Well, lunch is over. Today I have had no lunch because I really wasn’t In The Mood. Gotta go now—bye.

(Later The Next Day)

Getting toward the end of the working day, and I’ve got a little bit of time to kill. I’ve looked over this letter, and I don’t reckon I’ve said a whole lot.

(there’s more)

BEGINNING/END

The main thing I really wanted was just to communicate with you –even if it is about the Ho-Hum things of everyday life. There never seems to be a Right and/or Appropriate Time to talk to you, but after our little 2AM conversation I realized that I really would like to be able to talk to you. It’s just the Appearance of Things and What People Would Think.

So I have written and Part of Me says to throw this away or keep it in my “Letters to Never Send” file. I don’t know why, probably afraid you’ll think the wrong things, or you’ll read my letter out loud to a roomful of people, or I’ll get rebuked for doing something Inappropriate. So if you get this letter, it will be this short, or else if I chicken out, I’ll probably add to it and make it even more unsendable.

So Long for Now

Brother Andy

PS. I really hope I give this to you tonight but my nerves are making my finger muscles paralyzed and they probably will not release the envelope when I try. Oh, well, here’s to hoping.

(Later Still)

PPS. So, I’m a coward. I think I’ll do something IRREVOCABLE like mail it. Then if I can get it in the mailbox it will be out of my hands. Why’s this such a big deal anyway, gosh. This is a stupid letter anyway. You’ll probably think I’m stupid(er than you already do). I am disgusted w/myself of late, in fact I’m not speaking to me anymore. Hey, really meant to give it to you but had second, third and fourth thoughts and still am. Like what am I supposed to do just hand it to you? I’d feel to strange but to heck with all this you're probably fast forwarding this part anyway.

Ok, so let's Review again.

I.               Hello

II.             I am sending you a letter

          A. I feel somewhat strange etc.

III.           Let’s be friends

IV.           Please answer this letter

V.             Various questions

VI.           My day at work

VII.         I’d really like to send this letter but…

(over) (and over and over…)

END END

Tina, now don’t get me wrong. I really am making too big a fuss about this. Let me say again my purpose for even sitting down to write this is because after the other night outside your house and other times of just joking around, I’ve felt like I wished you and I were better friends.

But as you can see how awkward it is to even write to you, how much more difficult to you if Everybody’s around or if Everybody’s not around. Either way just seems like people would think it’s wrong. So, I don’t or I haven’t or it’s been a real quick Hi/Bye and nothing where I could say “hey, I know Tina. Tina’s a good friend of mine.”

I guess I just am needing a friend and thinking maybe you can use one, too. Anyway, the times that I’ve talked w/you I’ve enjoyed—though they haven’t been many. Anyway, so to approach the whole thing I thought to write is less of an awkward thing and I can pick and choose the time. You don’t even have to be there. So I wrote you a letter. So sue me!

Maybe you might want to write me back, maybe you might want to say, “This is a stupid idea, drop dead. I hate you.” But either way, I wanted to try and reach out just a little beyond this shell of a person you see five days a week but hardly Really Know. So I tried, so sue me!

I really didn’t want to make such a big fuss over it  but I just started getting PARANOID, thinking—oh, oh. Here I am sending you something maybe you’ll be uncomfortable, maybe you’ll misunderstand or whatever. You are a girl, that is enough to make me PARANOID already.

So, if you haven’t already made up your mind to report me to the Humane Society or the S.P.C.A. or the FBI, the KGB or the ERA then please write me a little note (not necessarily some BEAST like this one). And we can commence to being a little bit better friends than we are right now. That’s if I ever give you this…

Once again yours,

Brother Andy

PS. Never Mind.

(After Sunday Night)

Hey There! Maybe I didn’t need to write to you after all. For the past couple of days we’ve gotten to spend some Nice times either talking or eating or doing both simultaneously. It has been a lot of fun for me and I didn’t feel at all STRANGE. I enjoy the stories you and your Dad tell, however, he definitely has you beat when it comes to those gut-wrenching stories from the past.

Anyway, the pie, the pudding, the Jello, the ice-cream and Pop Tarts were all very Nice and made me feel for a tiny bit like we were Old Friends. Although in Bible Study, of course we are all family and friends, sometimes it winds up that you never get as much time w/certain people and you wind up feeling distant. With you, it was like I never really knew you until recently.

Anyway, I’m enjoying this whole thing of becoming Real friends, if you are. So why am I still writing and not telling you this? Well, I’ve gotten used to it over the last couple of days, I guess. I write a few lines here and a few there and it’s like I’ve got you Right There listening. Of course, it isn’t you; it’s a pencil and a piece of paper.

But if it ever comes about that I give you this letter it will be like one long conversation (one in which I talk on and on endlessly and you never get a chance to speak). So, I think I will limit this thing to writing only if something earthshaking happens. I just had to write this time, though, because I had to tell you how much I enjoyed these last couple of days.

Anyway, I’m just a fool if I think I’m ever going to give you a letter as goofy and sentimental sounding as this one. Goodnight!

Revisting the distant past via scanned paper documents

 

11-28-15 

I'm thinking of uploading my consciousness onto this blog. No, not all of it. Just some random scans of stuff from the '80s thru present. Scraps of paper with random thoughts, artwork or whatever. Let's do a test run.

Nothing actually happened on this date, nor did I even have this blog at the time. This was just an exercise in date manipulation. So, I can actually go back and re-write history...

Andrew Letter 26

****The following was transcribed from a letter I sent my mom sometime in the early 80s. She was kind enough to send me a batch of our old correspondence to aid me in the completion of my memoirs. I've done my best to preserve the original text, while correcting some typos and inserting paragraph breaks to make for easier reading. I have yet to determine an approximate date, but when I do, I will move this post to the appropriate slot in the chronology of this blog.****

 

 

Andrew Letter 26 (Early 80s)

 

Dear Mom,

 

It’s kind of hard to write in the middle of a vacation, so I sort of waited for the end to write. I got your letter and can relate, know where you’re coming from, etc. I can also say that I am happy with my own attitudes right now. It is no longer a matter of “fuck ‘em all” or “so what.” It is a matter of finding my own place or niche. I have done so many things in the last few weeks that have made me think: You know, I am in my prime, and I really am having the time of my life.

I have made some new friends and they blend right in with the old. Lesa is a very nice, sympathetic soul, and she is another person (like Cherie) who has strange powers, and who I believe has a place in my life. Steve and Denise Dennis, are both in good spirits but lack direction. Dennis seems to be interested only in getting drunk. Likewise, Steve seems to value only his own very narrow scope of punk music, something we don’t agree upon. He has shaved his whole head – otherwise, we get along fine.

Cherie and I have “broken up.” I have decided that I can’t handle that kind of relationship and that I am happy without the jealousy and paranoia. I hate head games and power trips and people into ownership. It was something that I needed to experience, though.

I have since gone out with other girls and felt myself more of a whole person (like I’m not just living for one person). Cherie was upset at the actual “breakup” but not at the events leading up to it, so I felt no pain at demoting her to less than #1 status. Oh, well, I am now realizing my friendship making capabilities and am loving it.

I met this girl Lesa at a party, and she was strung out on meth (don’t worry, mom). I talked to her and found her interesting. She plays bass, wants to get in a band and we like a lot of similar music. Anyway, I talked to her while she was shooting up – the sight sickened me – and I convinced her that she was a worthwhile person, contrary to her beliefs. I actually restored her faith in herself, and she is clean (off drugs) now. She calls me a “nice man.”

Remember my experience with Cherie? The face changing? Well, if you say I’m crazy, I’m gonna get mad because I know for a fact that people’s outward and inward appearances change through manifestations of good and evil. Just as Cherie’s face turned into the devil, Lesa’s face changed. It once became that of an old lady and had a tree-like appearance, and then it became very beautiful and vibrant.

I could tell she was tortured by her own personal demons, and wanted to help her and I did. I sat there and talked to her, and I helped her to feel good about herself again. That made me feel good. Later, we both sat down at a piano and started to play, and the most marvelous music  came from the two of us playing the piano psychically (not looking). No drugs were involved (on my part), just – I hate to use this expression – good vibes.

Well, that’s where I’m at. I’m a hippie, I’m afraid, at heart. I don’t like that fast, violent punk garbage (who does?) but I am still a (non-conformist member of society) PUNK. I guess I am just a punk that loves people.

Anyway, I’m rambling.

I talked to Paul – one time in the whole visit. I’m sorry I didn’t see him more, but I was busy – always doing something fun. He said that I am sane and that I am a healthy teenager.

 

By the way, I love life and I love you,

Andrew

Jesus loves you. Bye now. I’ll write again.

A letter from Nina (a punk girl I dated briefly in high school)

Andrew,

Hi-

This is Nina. I’m at home from school and I just woke up from a dream. It had you and your girlfriend in it. That just made me want to write you a letter, since we haven’t really spoken for a while.

At my party, I know, I was very strange. You probably thought that I had completely lost control of my life. But actually I really haven’t. You see, I just let everyone walk all over me, and I understand now and I don’t intend to have any more big parties.

Anyways I really hope that you are happy. Because I care a lot about you still. I was talking to Jeanette at a gig and she said that she doesn’t see that much of you. I found that odd because you both go to the same school and all, but then I started to understand the situation. It must be that you’re always with Ilene, huh? Well, that’s great!

You don’t know how happy I am for you to have found the one person that you have been looking for. She seems really nice. I felt sort of ridiculous around her because, to me it was like, you might of told her I was “nice” or whatever you felt, and I was a complete jerk that night and she kind of just said “O.K. Andrew, whatever you say.”

But I’d really like to get to know her. Why don’t you ever go out anymore? Are you guys that involved? I always wondered what it would be like to just want to be with someone, and no one else. Oh, well.

So, how is your family? Are you getting along well? I sure hope so. I’m alright. I’m just getting some lectures from my mom on school and that sort of stuff.

I finally took care of my “Paul San problem.” It was really weird, you see he was at my party and we didn’t even talk. It wasn’t like a fight, just like we weren’t even together. After that we didn’t talk for a really long time and then I saw him one night at the Galaxy. And I just told him, that I thought we outta just be friends. And that was it. I can’t see what it is I saw in him.

But I have found myself a new Paul! It’s so weird. I saw him and was awed, I didn’t EVEN want him for a boyfriend, I figured “fuck, that guy is beautiful, I only want to look at him.” I just wanted to stare at him. But then he kept talking to me all night, and then by the end of the night he was holding my hand and he kissed me goodnight and got my phone # and I’ve seen him almost every night since.

And that was 2 weeks ago. There is something special about him. It’s weird, he’s absolutely tooo nice. I can’t understand. He has 1 million friends and he is too nice to me. I guess there’s no such thing, but you know.

Well, I guess I outta go. Sorry, if I bored you. Please write me back cuz I will look forward to hearing from you. Bye, I love you always.

Love,

N------

(tricky huh hee hee)

P.S. You might have to help me with French, cuz I’m having troubles, not a lot, just kinda.

Here’s something I wrote in school. See if you can figure out who it is about.

Sitting here, in a daze

Don’t hear the teacher

Or what he says

I’m thinking about people

And things to do

I’m thinking about me

And I’m thinking about you

I’m so alone without you here

Being by myself is what I fear

I’m trying to listen

I sit and stare

I close my eyes and you’re still not there

Bye Love,

Nina

The Midnight Postman

Do you remember where you were on January 14, 1973? Elvis was performing Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite. I know what I was doing, besides watching it, of course, with Gracie. I was writing letters of apology with a red felt tip pen on paper napkins to a girl on whose roof I had pooped the previous week. Yes, you heard that correctly. I pooped on her roof.

OK, so there was this girl, Sabin Pildas at my progressive alternative school, Play Mountain Place, who I had my very first puppy crush on. She had blonde hair and was cute as a bug, or a button, or a rainbow sunflower, whatever. I was in love. I liked-ed her so much I invited her to my 7^th birthday party. We played at school and sometimes after school, as she was my neighbor. She lived in West Hollywood, just across the Sunset Strip from the house my mom was renting on Larabee.

One night, I was eating dinner over at her house. They were having “busgetti.” Somewhere between the appetizers and the main course, we were offered water to drink in a choice of glasses. I really wanted to drink out of the blue glass. It had a neat swirly texture and a blue tint that got really dark at the bottom, like a tequila sunrise, only with indigo. As soon as I saw it, I knew that it was the glass for me.

I was denied that glass, however, as it was her father’s glass and was “special.” I didn’t take it well. First, I pouted, which provided no results. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and proceeded to crawl out of the skylight and onto the roof. I’m not sure when the plan developed, but right then and there, I dropped my pants and crapped on the roof. Right there next to the skylight. With birds and sun and sky silently aghast at my action.

It was a messy, peanut buttery affair, and it left my backside in need of a good washing. Alas, I had neglected to bring any toilet paper. So there I was squatting, my little undies and pants all akimbo and becoming soiled from the mess.

I cried. 

 

And yelled. 

 

“Help! Someone!”

Eventually, someone heard me and determined that I was on the roof, above the skylight in the locked bathroom. Somehow they got the door open, and someone handed me a roll of toilet paper. Yes, there were questions. Possibly starting with “What the….” I was crying, so they tried not to yell at me, but I could tell they were really pissed. After getting cleaned up and climbing back down, my mom was called, and I was soon picked up. I was never invited back there again.

I was forbidden to play with Sabin. This didn’t sit well with me. I still had my puppy crush on her, although I knew I had fucked up. So, on January 14^th, when everyone was watching 70s Elvis doing his thing, I was writing these notes to my lost love. Later, I snuck across Sunset Blvd. in the middle of the night to slide them under her door, the midnight postman, delivering his message of love and regret.

I’m not sure if she ever got to read them, but her parents did. They contacted the school and lodged a formal complaint, which could be in some permanent record somewhere, if those hippies kept records of that kind thing back then. I was later kicked out of that school for pushing a kid out of a tree house, but that’s another story.

Me and Sabin are friends on Facebook (I think) and I don’t guess she was scarred for life by my misdeed. Let me just check my friends list real quick. Yep, still there. So that was the start of my awkward love letter writing career which endures to this day. If I could just find those napkins, I’d try to redeliver them just to be sure she knows that I was really sorry back then and that my feelings of puppy love were true.

Back In Time

Can you insert a post into the past if you think of something later on?  Stupid Blogger. I used to be able to change the date and post things retroactively. Now I have to wait for time travel to be invented, so I can go back and put paper journal transcriptions in their proper place.

**Editor's note: They fixed the portal. Now it is possible to add posts to my timeline (at least as far back as Jan 1, 1970) without the use of time travel.  For my purposes, that'll have to do. I wasn't doing much blogging before that time anyways. 

And, unlike Facebook, there is no built-in "edited" disclaimer at the bottom to expose the fact that I have tampered with the past, should I decide to go back and re-write history. Like the Mandela Effect, people who may have read something that I posted will just wind up scratching their heads and saying, "Hmm, I could have sworn you'd said something completely different the last time I visited this page." If. Anyone. Ever. Re-reads anything on this blog.