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{letter to my future love} jack wilder Dear My Current or Future Love, Just a few words today, each of which I cannot - unfortunately - regret. For I have harbored all these words behind my sternum in every situation, in the face of every person I meet. As a result, I am here to stand before you with every humble molecule I hold – honest and all too human. In my hands I am holding the presents of my past, and effects of my future. I am here to say, pointedly, there are a multitude of things that you need to know about me. These things have scarred people standing in my past. They have proved caustic to those who were supposed to belong to my future. I am here to say these things because we have begun our ascent now and there is a fairness in the clearing of the waters of my past. The words following this absorb at the common rate of half-lives; slowly. In the past I have stood before armies, only doling-out my speech in parts. And at the conclusion I always heard words of support. But alas, the crutches inexorably dissolved. My past has burned all my bridges to salvation. And so I feel that it is time that you too oblige me and read what it is that I have done; who I have become. Below is a strong sampling of what you need to know about me before we continue: I love the word fuck. In any given occasion it can find purpose and for that reason, coupled with how it rolls from my tongue, it is my most-favored word. When bums ask if I have change, I say yes. And then keep walking. I am a voyeur. I love watching and wanting and listening to everything that I should not be. To this end I’ve cultivated an entire skill set. For instance, when you really want to hear what the people next to you are saying, while being discreet – the best policy is to turn your head so that your ear is facing them, not your eyes. I like wanting what I don’t have. If what "I don’t have” is on the other side of the fence I’ll probably be playing baseball in the backyard, by myself – until I hit a home run. My definition of “crazy” runs as thus: If you have the capacity to call yourself crazy in any given situation, you are not crazy. If you believe that nothing you do is actually worthy, however whimsically, of the descriptor, “crazy” – you are, crazy. For this and more, I am marginally crazy. I have been in the nuthouse. And yes, I made friends. Yes, I saw truly, criminally insane people. Yes, I like most everybody else that was there - was a failure. Because we all tried to kill ourselves, but not one of us did accomplish that task. I am hypersexual. At some point I am going to have cravings to have sex with the next thing that walks by. I hope, for that beautiful third entity that you and I have created together, that when that arises – the “next thing” is you. Yes, I have done drugs. Just about all of them. I’ve never quite figured-out what is so terrible about them, until: I almost overdosed on a narcotic. I had a very, very bad trip on mushrooms. Apart from that however, I will say that I love drugs. They have done wonderful things for me. Sometimes, I drink just to hurt myself. For this I like hard alcohol, but mostly wine. Wine gives me the buzz I want and, like hard liquor, it lets me know that I am, in fact putting some poison in my body. I like feeling it in my throat. Going down, and then coming back up. I throw-up from time to time. From alcohol, from brushing my teeth, but also from emotions. I may be leaving our warm bed on wintry night to sit in front of the toilet – where I may even fall asleep. I am emotional. I cry. Yes, I am masculine. But I cry. Often. Note: If I don’t cry in front of you, that is not a good sign. If my eyes only well-up with tears, but nothing comes-out – we will not be together much longer. Note: I cry for joy as much as I cry because I am sad. When I was younger, I loved stealing things from stores. And while I don’t engage in this anymore – I have embezzled large amounts of money in my past. Sometimes I miss this. My only real conflict is with reality. I am miserable with money. I do not pay my bills and usually, things get turned-off only because I didn’t pay them. I forget to pay bills mostly on account of the fact that I do not open my mail. I have drawers full of unopened letters and statements and demands. This is coupled with the fact that I love spending hundreds of dollars on dinner and drinks. As frequently as possible. I have never had an adult mentor. I have always wanted one, an adult one – but to this day, I have not succeeded. However I have had a mentor. But he was two and a half years of age. He has been, hitherto, the most profound person I have ever known and sometimes still I cry myself to sleep at night because I miss him. I have been chased by the police. But they never caught me. I have two DUI’s. I have still never been to jail. But I must confess that I want to go. Even if just for a night. It is good for me to have everything taken away every now and then. Music is my crack. I need it every day. And I need new stuff every week. If I don’t get any, I become cranky. Once, I called my friend’s parents to tell them that he needed to be stopped from going down to Colfax to buy more drugs. As a result my friend went to rehab and continued living. Hitherto, none of my relatives have died while I was alive, save my great-grandmother. This terrifies me almost every day, because I know that there is a lot of death in my future. If I do not die from some cause that I have not controlled, or cannot, at this point or ever, control – I will die from hanging. By my own hands. I think about this almost every day. I hate the word penis. I prefer, “cock”. I stand in violent opposition to the Christological doctrine and I will, probably, at some point mock that ideology, or mostly – the people that adhere to it. This is on account of my upbringing being submerged in Christianity-and-water; and if you have relatives that subscribe to this faith, at some point I will offend – if not them, you. I have spent my entire adult life in research, fighting this accepted paradigm. I am chivalrous, sweet and kind. But I believe in Thomas Hobbes’ notion of self-preservation. Meaning: Everybody is concerned with their own, private self-preservation above all else – first and foremost. To be clear, however, this does not mean that I am selfish. Sure, I can be selfish from time-to-time – like any other humanoid. But I am only wrapped-up in self-preservation. All of my life I have been called: selfish, pompous and pretentious. None of these descriptors are correct. I am none of those three. Most of what people think about me is predicated on how I appear; how I rub-off on others; and how I carry myself. If I am anything, it is: lazy with language. In that, I am no different from any other man. I will inevitably correct you on/inform you about such items as: Jesus never walked the earth; acronym is inherently different from an initialism; stranding prepositions is okay; you cannot split an infinitive in English; an ellipsis consists of only three periods; our lexicon is fluid – definitions are not rigid; I know the longest words in the English lexicon; and I know my favorite word. I am always striving to create beautiful moments. If I step on your toes from time to time, it’s not because I’m an inherent asshole. It is because I frequently become blind from the light. I masturbate almost every day/night. But never at work. I have not been in a fistfight in my adult life. Secretly I want to. I wake-up in the middle of the night and eat food. I have gotten better at this, however I often bring food back into the bed – because it’s warmer there. Resultantly I will wake with items on my chest, on the bed, under your pillow. These items include, but are not restricted to: chocolate, any kind of candy, cereal, cheese, and milk. If I can’t watch a provocative documentary or a period piece like Braveheart, I prefer romantic comedies. Don’t ever ask me to: Play a board game, cards, some game wherein I have to roleplay. Don’t’ ever ask me to sing. Because I won’t. The only time I sing is when I am not prompted – otherwise, I suck. And don’t ever ask me to dance in a club to some electronic music – because I just don’t do that. Ever. Under any circumstances. I will, however, couples dance. I like that. I write world class love letters. Some of the best I have ever read. Often, I go to book stores to find ones that are even better. I’m not in competition – love letters are simply my most favorite things to read. And no, nobody has ever written me the ultimate love letter. Note that if you ask for a love letter from me – inexorably, you will not receive one. I am not an egomaniac. I am, however, confident in the areas that I excel in. I don’t hate much (although I will use that word all the time). But the things that you can be certain that I do, without a reserved fucking doubt, hate – are: Socialists, Communists, Leftists, Pro-Big-Government in any fashion, Vegans, Boulder, Sorority girls (yes I have tried them out and boy do they suck) and Fraternity boys, Wanderlust freaks, people who flake, people who talk shit, New York City and people like Lisa who play retarded social-ladder games. If you are unable to live with any of the above confessions, there is nothing more for us to do here. And it is of no surprise to me. I barely accept me. But then again, the above is an illustration of somebody - trying to live with fire and emotion; standing in the grand progression of life. If you do choose to accept them, you are taking all of me. Not just a pretty sample. I love you or, You don't love me. We'll wait and see... |
