Aimee Is A Little Crazy

part 14

Subject: You and Me

To: BoPeep

From: MackAttack

Date: 01/11 2:15 a.m.

Dearest Aimee …

We have to talk.

Seeing as how our relationship hurts you so, maybe it would be best to stop writing to each other, and stop calling. I really don’t want to hurt you. I had hoped that my new-found happiness would make you happy, too. I was not considering “the ties that bind,” but am becoming more familiar with them in a way both symbolic and literal. I am “learning the ropes,” as it were.

A part of me, a large part, wants to keep writing to you. But that is a cruel part. As precious as it is to me, I should sacrifice it … for your sake, Aimee. There is one other way, but I really don’t think you would go for it.

When I think of all you need, all that would truly help you, therapy is the first thing that comes to mind. As I learn more about Akiko’s art, I find it has healing properties. Of course it isn’t “alternative medicine” to her but rather deeply rooted in Japanese traditions. Spending time in various positions and suspensions with the ropes alters the flow of energy (yin/yang), but I shouldn’t bore you with theory.

I am longing to tell you more about her, but don’t think the kind of pain it inflicts on you is the good pain, the healing pain. It’s not like the kind of mental agony Akiko experiences in her struggle with English. A terrible crown of thorns in her mind. But when she gets something right, the pain turns to ecstatic pleasure. She repeats her newly mastered phrase or vocabulary over and over (sometimes, a bit too much, but I try to remain patient).

You should meet her, Aimee. You would really like her and she might be able to help you. There is no sharp distinction between artist and healer in her tradition. I don’t know what she would say you need, the “flushed crane,” the “sparrow in the thistle bush,” I don’t know. She would have to examine you.

There is nothing like live performance for letting go of all of your shames and humiliations. I am thinking now of my music as therapy, too. It is. As an artist, you should appreciate it all. Maybe you’ll find that dressing windows also heals.

Mack

 

Subject: You ARE a such a Prick!

To: MackAttack

From: BoPeep

Date: 01/14      10:12a.m.

Mackie,

You sound just as woo-woo as you did over Daphne. Like your head is in the stars and you feet are in mud, or worse. I mean, you can’t even communicate with this girl and you are jumping to conclusions. You hardly answer the phone, and you won’t talk when you do. I don’t get it. Happy New Year, huh? (It hasn’t been so far.)

I guess what bothers me more is you went from Me to Daphne, and now to this girl with NO casual dating, no taking time to get healed, or take a breather (well, unless you can call the few week interlude with me and the almost blow job with a fat chick, a breather). Seems that any girl who gave you more than a second glance was “good enough”. No, you’ll stick to her like glue and be her soul mate, and not even have any thoughts about how wrong this is. Mack….it’s ME you’re talking To.

Your letter was so upsetting, the last few conversations even MORE SO. It’s happening again, isn’t it? Now you’re going to cut off all communication with me while you and your ONE are all nuzzled up in your love sack. Mack, you always desert me when there is another girl. It’s like you can just toss ol’ Aimee aside. It’s like with the D girl….and you went through some hard time…..we ran into each other and you were gushing and gushing about how “she really stuck it out, was there for you”.

HELLO?  What about me?

I’ve stuck it out longer and harder than anyone, and you just discount me. You never say anything to me, like you just expect that I’ll take your crap and care and keep caring, and YOU don’t notice. I’m totally disposable to you, aren’t I? I’m just here when you want, and then it’s “go away little girl”.

You get all caught up in your fantasy about women…..and it’s the same fantasy, you know….you used to think that I looked at you with these dreamy eyes and understood…and I was so different, and you thought that we “experienced” the music together. You never, ever, asked me what I thought, because it never mattered. Our whole relationship was one where I felt like you never saw ME. You only picked and chose what you thought would fit and discarded the rest. You put words in my mouth and thoughts in my head, then you turned on me and I was the most vile creature on the earth, then you dumped me. You blamed me for everything, but mostly NOT being who you thought I was, just being myself. You hated me for me being me. You found the D-girl, who must have been a better screen for your projection, to replace me. And, now she’s vile, too.

So, how long with this one, Mack? She doesn’t speak, and until she learns English enough to tell you off once or twice, you’re going to make up what’s in her head, aren’t you?I thought it would be different this time with us. But, obviously not. I’m nothing special…just ol’ Aimee, the one you can batter in letters. I open my heart to you and tell you things about my life, and you just beat me to a pulp. I figure that you don’t mean to be so mean, and forgive you because I know you are recovering from a bad relationship, and you need some time and space. I was starting to feel closer to you.

Didn’t we fuck like bunnies just a few weeks ago? Was it my mistake but didn’t you say that you were “enraptured with my presence”? Excuse me, Mack, but I thought we were going to see each other, more.

When you write a really nice letter, I turn to mush. But, I never know if your letter’s are going to slap me or pet me….and that’s just not right (Compared to you, Davey was more consistent, and a longer lasting lover.) So, now, you just hit me in the head with this gushy love letter and babbling on about some Japanese girl who doesn’t speak English, and I know that you’re off on one of your trips and it will be a long wait until you come back to me.

What about me?

What about ME, Mack?

I can’t write anymore right now. I’m so upset. I’m so sad. You…just don’t understand how much I need you, do you? Well, never mind. I can manage just fine on my own, thanks.

Aimee