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Maudlin and Moxie

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(no subject) [Jul. 9th, 2006|03:35 pm]
Maudlin and Moxie

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you didn't write back.  It was the idealistic side of me, hopeful and all.  I was expecting this epic friendship, this overseas verbal embrace.  Maybe I just don't belong, here.  Maybe that's why I'm always thinking about everywhere else and everyone else.
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(no subject) [May. 18th, 2006|11:31 pm]
Maudlin and Moxie

I cannot know what you understand, or understand what you know?

You were more full of commas then I would have guessed you would be from our causerie. I had expected a music box flow of chattery prose. Not to say I am disappointed; just surprised.

Your letter seemed to have the tone of one who was offended. I don't know if I should be apologizing? Maybe I shouldn't have opened my letter talking about my problems with the maudlin population of the world. I hadn't implied you are such.

How old is your sister? And how old are you, while I am asking?

Your sister sounds like a friend of mine. Her name is Marie and she thinks starving herself is a spiritual quest. I would disagree with her but I honestly do not have experience in starvation. My parents are rich, always have been. Bred from rich families themselves. So to say I have never met God on an empty stomach, I have never met God anywhere with anything. But I've been trying. Remember the tower of Babel? I have a similar project. Maybe sometime I'll tell you about it. Not now though, I don't have the energy.

I will admit that I didn't think a pretty girl like you would ever write back a homely little shit like me.

My self esteem has been on a sabbatical for the past couple years, by the way. Another long story I don't have the energy for.

I don't even know what to write you or where to start. I realized you would probably have the same problems, so let me attempt to get things started:

Sum up your childhood in as many sentences as it takes.
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(no subject) [May. 17th, 2006|04:25 am]
Maudlin and Moxie

You, of all people, cannot possibly know what I understand. My cup of coffee and our casual causerie did not reveal to me the secrets of your soul.

I, for one, do not believe in souls. My sister, however, insists that they are the gateway to all understanding. Well, souls and starvation, it seems.

My sister is not eating. At first she wanted to lose twenty pounds, after a few weeks she decided it was spiritual enlightenment that she was after, now I think she is just trying to see how far she can go. Her son had a birthday party last week and she watched everyone lick frosting off their forks while she explained how much clearer the balloons and birthday cake are to her now. She can see the truth in the Bugs Bunny pinata. After noticing her eying up the ice cream, I asked her if she could eat a "whole fucking cow." She calmly replied that hunger is something we all have to deal with, in one way or another.

I am no where near falling for her Gandhi-gut wisdom, but I think you should take all of those lonely girls out for some steak.

And so it is time for me to jump ship, so to speak.
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(no subject) [May. 9th, 2006|12:24 am]
Maudlin and Moxie

I know how to find the maudlin with a little moxie, so to speak. I've got this problem that most people would consider an attribute. I understand pretty much everyone inside and out within minutes of meeting them, sometimes the moment I meet them. And they get attached to me, and sometimes they love me, and they're usually melodramatic or lonely. But I don't really feel anything for them. I guess that's the problem.

For example, I make girls fall in love with me on accident, and then I have to break their hearts.

No, seriously.

And I'm not particularly suave, I don't have a beaming smile, I'm overweight and conversationally clumsy, I have not the capacity for showing affection. My nose was broken years ago (long story) and zig zags down my face like the stairway of a haunted house. Surely you remember that. My smile has been said to be "obtrusive" and "unnatural" by an ex-girlfriend of mine who now hates my guts. I'm rude and overly feminine. There don't seem to be any redeeming romantic qualities about me, except for the fact that I "understand" them: these clingy girls, wide eyed at my ability to listen so attentively and tell them things they already know.

But that's not what this is about. I'm not sending you letters to complain of romantic woes and ask for sympathy. I'm writing you letters because I think you, of all people, will understand what I have to say. And having someone understand is obviously what everyone desperately needs in life. I am, unfortunately, no exception.

I remember our conversation, just like I remember everything. I remember you saying that two people from separate corners of the world meeting in a foreign country neither has ever visited to watch a dog show and have a philosophical conversation with each other was real funny. You laughed. Your laugh sounded like a music box being wound backwards.

You said you were allergic to dogs and I said I hated them. You laughed again. You said irony gave you a real giggle fit. I said irony made me sick to my stomach.

I was at the dog show because I promised a friend of mine I would support her and her stupid spoiled shitzu. You were there because you promised your mother you would support her and her stupid spoiled bull terrier. Neither my friend or your mother won any prizes, and they cried, and we had to console them, and so we left after agreeing to meet each other for coffee the next day. And so we did, the next day, and you said this:

"I'm not the kind of girl who falls in love, but if I were I'd be a real shipwreck right now."

And I replied:

"That's an interesting way to put it."

And you laughed that music box laugh, and you wrote down your address instead of your phone number on my palm instead of the back of my hand, and you said two people like us should stay in touch, and then we flew on our separate planes to our separate homes in our separate corners of the world.

And here I am, staying in touch, as you suggested two people like us should do.
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