Letters Unsent… But maybe they should be

I often struggle between my inner dialog and the one that goes through my lengthy filtering process. When friends ask for my opinion or advice, which happens way more often than I care to say, I often ask myself repeatedly ‘should I really give it??’ ‘do they really want it, or are they just asking so I will reassure them that their decision is perfect and I am their minion?’ ‘Don’t they know by now I’m gonna be honest??’ ‘Why the fuck are they asking me??’ Then I give a kindly worded, much pondered, answer that may not be what they wanted to hear. But oh well, you asked. However, there have been a few things since my last post that I haven’t addressed. Frankly, this shit is tiring. Buddha (or whoever writes cool quotes and says they are from Buddha- either way, I like it) said that carrying around anger (or resentment or frustration or unaddressed hurt- those mine) is like holding a burning coal in your hands and expecting the other person to get burned. Smart guy this Buddha. So I’m gonna drop some hot rocks. Prepare yourselves bitches…

*****************

Dearest Friend,

Please stop apologizing for the things that happened almost ten years ago. We both made mistakes and we both did stupid things. We let pride and ego and self come between us and now… We don’t. We’ve grown, we’ve changed, we’ve suffer losses without each other to wipe tears. We’ve had wins without each other to celebrate. We’ve seen the people that we drifted toward drift from us and we’ve made our way back to each other. Yes it’s different. No, we are not the inseparable pair we were then… But we wouldn’t have the amazing men in each of our lives. Now we are friends. Not just friends, but true friends. Friends with history and shared heartache and shared love and shared laughs and shared jokes that no one else understands. We can be three but cycle and the other one will always get it. So move forward, because we can’t finish the movie if we keep rewatching in the last scene.

I love you princess. More than my shoes… Even the ones I don’t wear anymore.  

Less than three.

*****************

Dear Friend (are we still?),

Thank you for finally articulating your feelings after simply dropping off my radar for three weeks. I really thought we had the kind of friendship where you could drop by and say ‘hey friend, we need to hash something out’, but I guess we don’t. To be honest, it wasn’t so much the content of what you said texted that hurt most, but that you couldn’t talk to me… That you still can’t talk to me. Don’t get me wrong, what you said affected me too… In a what the actual fuck? Am I really reading this right now? Noooo, really?? Kind of way. I have been the same person since well, always. I think what’s really changed is the message. You don’t like what you are hearing now. A few years ago the message was supportive, because that was my truth to you then. Now the message isn’t as supportive, it’s more questioning, more of a devils advocate. It’s still given with kindness and in my voice, but I am not towing your party line. I’m not sorry. I think you are making some horrible decisions. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the decisions you are making are good and I’m wrong. Or maybe I’m the enabler. Maybe these couple months without hangin out with me have been good. No one is helping you spend time self destructing. If it took my “hurting your feelings” to get you to pull your shit together then I’m not sorry, not that I was anyway. I don’t hold on to those coals. It doesn’t help anyone, least of all me.

I hope the last couple months have been really good for you. I hope the kids are well and if they ever want to come over for Mac n cheese and minions, I always have time for them. And when you are ready to have a conversation, with words… Through your mouth, I’ll be here. Same as always. Because unconditional is the only way I know how.

****************

Units,

Fucking figure it out because we didn’t choose, you did. So fucking act like it. Act like you give a shit, because frankly, I don’t. Others do, but I don’t. And do you have any idea how much it takes for someone like me to stop caring??? Ask around, ask my friends, ask other people that know me, ask people on the street. It is known. But I am done and over it. The fucks are gone, the shits have done been given. The love that remains falls under the obligation category but the like… There is no requirement for like that in the handbook. I checked. For fuck sake. This isn’t even about me, it’s about them, the ones that still have something left to give.

I can’t even. Words are failing me and words are what I do. I just can’t.

****************

Yang,

You have put the knees on my bees. You are the grammar nazi to my writers journal. I have had best friends that are forever friends (you have met the princess) but you are somehow a part of me I didn’t know I needed. You give voice to things I can’t and help me rein in the compassion that seems to flow unimpeded when you aren’t around. At the same time, I think I lend a chisel to your edge and a filter to your outer voice that you may have been looking for… The chisel and filter that have been sitting there in their pretty boxes just waiting for their home. Plus, you get the parts of my favorites that I don’t, and you eat the centers of my cinnamon rolls and you smoke when you aren’t on fire giving me a chance to take a break when I need it. 

I love you too, more than my shoes… enough to let you borrow them and give them to you if you want them. Or find a better pair made by ALDO and send them to you as a gift.

***************

Dear Country,

I knew some of you were not that bright. I knew some of you would believe anything the channel you watch most told you. I even knew some of you were such fucking sheep that you would listen to the loudest one in the room even if he was telling you that you were on fire, while you were wading in a swimming pool. I did not think enough of you were were so blind and ignorant that you would allow such an obvious piece of shit to leave his mark on your door. I did not think you would lay back and open your legs to what is obviously the smallest dick of them all, while he tells you how huge it is… And then tell him how huge his centimeter feels. Haven’t you had enough of this nonsense? Haven’t you felt sufficiently reemed? Must you allow this to continue so the rest of us have to endure your shame? Once again I find myself struggling to find words to properly describe the disgust I feel at the people I have to share citizenship with.

Wake the fuck up! You think we have issues with “terrorists” now? What the fuck do you think will happen if you right wing nut jobs succeed at putting this idiot in office? You know, the guy that has insulted every race, creed and culture I can think of. Do you think we’ll be fine? Do you think it will be okay, that his GIANT centimeter cock will protect you?? Think again motherfuckers… All the “terrorists” that hate each other may stop for a minute and get together to decide- hey, wait… We need to go show the giant, entitled, overinflated, American wack-job that he fucked with too many of us. You can fuck with the people that guy hates, or the guy over there, but not everyone, that’s just greed. Terrorists hate American greed. And who is a bigger poster boy for American greed than our Republi-cock candidate? NO ONE.

So sort yourselves out. This has gone way past funny to, again ridiculous.For fuck sake people.

For. Fuck. Sake.

I can’t even. Again the words are failing me and words are what I do. I just can’t.

So I will let someone else… (It’s not new… But it will work)

correspondence or some shit

bro,

You are fucking awesome. Here is a list (in bullet form as I am a nerd) to aid in making my point:

*You are a feminist whereas I am not, I say open my door damnit! But you give me hope that it is not a bad thing to be a feminist and are the only person I can say that about.

*You love unconditionally. It hurts to do that, but you persevere and are a stronger man for it.

*You are a good human. You don’t have to take my word for this, ask others or I can provide letters of reference.

*You follow what you believe and stick to your ideals even when it isn’t easy and makes doing something good really difficult.

*You can punk me out but it doesn’t feel like punking, well most of the time.

*You are intelligent, funny, kind hearted and cute, also very colorful, both literally and figuratively

*oh, yeah… you ran 13.1 miles on a fractured foot to give money to a child with blood cancer pretty sure you should get a medal for that – oh wait.

I don’t need to say more but I can elaborate, for pages.

less than three,
sars

*****

Dear job,

Nevermind. My filter is still working.

grumble.

sars

*****

Dear filter,

Please uninstall yourself so I can get some shit out. I have some anxiety happening up in this bitch and it needs to stop. like now! If you would kindly allow me to remove the gorilla glue so I can just utilize at my leisure I would appreciate it.

now!! kindly,
sars

*****

Dear Matrix,
*not the car

Why can’t I look like the hot chick the ended up breaking her leg performing her own stunts? Without breaking my leg of course. I’m not fat. So maybe I just need to be more bendy. That would be helpful. Is there a red and/or blue pill for that? Please advise.

yours binarily,
sars

*****

dear old ass dude on a bass-ackwards (I hate that phrase too, but really, it applies) tri cycle,
**also wanna-be skater kid, coffee shop hipster and stroller pushing crack mom…

There are rules of the road for a reason, namely your safety. I like to think of myself as a patient person who is understanding. Occasionally you have to endround a rule to keep from becoming a smudge on the pavement, but that is on occasion. Riding or pushing as it were, down or in a one-way street, the wrong way, is not okay and not safe really – especially if say you have a child in a stroller. Rolling out of a driveway, THE WRONG WAY, also not okay. These are ways to insure sudden smooshing under the wheels of my tank car.

And to you specifically old ass dude… I realize you are from an era when dinosaurs took up the entire field and you had to club them with a log to get where you were going and thus you feel some sense of entitlement to take the entire lane… at lunchtime… in the downtown area… going 3(ish) miles per hour, backing up cars for two blocks. But hear me now old dude… You are not entitled to this privilege. Bring a dino and maybe. Hug the cars on the side giving room for my large, but not canyonarrow sized, vehicle to go by you kindly and I will not feel the need to have my passenger door check you or honk unexpectedly as I pass your ear. We can have a peaceful coexistance. Much like you and the brontosaurus once had.

namaste,
sars

*****

you put up with my blithering… here is a treat.

The Black Keys: Howlin for You

[youtube]http://youtu.be/TLSpj7q6_mM[/youtube]