part 25

Subject: Hi.

From: Bopeep

To:   Mackattack

Date: 08/21        3:10p.m. PDT

Dear Mack,

You should tell me more about your life, and your past. I like it. It makes it more like we are getting close again. I want to be close, we never really were more than just the friction part, were we? I mean, I think we were too young to be very deep then.

Mack, my art isn’t art. It’s advertisements for a department store. It’s not stuff I think up as much as it’s stuff that a bunch of people dream up and tell me to do. I just do it a few different ways. Then they critique it, and pick one, and have me redo it with changes.

It’s not like I’m a crazy, creative artist.

I’m just a graphic artist. It’s just a job. I guess the difference is like between a fiction writer and a journalist. I don’t even like the whole high-brow art stuff. I mean, there were people like that in art school…the ones that painted the Barbie dolls white and claimed it was some sort of symbolism. It is a lot like performance art. (I have had my fill of that!)

I’m not talented that way. I don’t know, I’m creative, but just in offbeat ways. I sometimes do these dorky crafts projects and that is really fun. You know, just silly stuff like painting on silk and making mobiles…and painting rocks, gluing popsickle sticks together. But, I’m not going to write to you about making a pig bank out of a Clorax bottle.

I mean, you tease me enough as it is. I was never an artist. That’s just so funny. I mean, can you imagine me in a beret with a big smock on! It’s a laugh riot.

I totally get confused about too many choices. I mean, when I go into a deli and I ask for a ham and cheese sandwich, I don’t really WANT to get a zillion questions “baked, honey roasted, boiled, black forest, or turkey ham?” “white, wheat, rye, sourdough, or pita?” “American, cheddar, swiss, provolone, jack, gouda?” “mild mustard, hot mustard, medium mustard, Dijon?” “lettuce, tomato, onion, peppers?” “Mayo or oil and vinegar, or both?” I hate it! I mean, just give me a plain ham and cheese sandwich! I think there are only so many choices one can make in a day before your brain explodes. It’s hard to get exploded brains off the furniture, I hear.

I don’t think my mother want’s to adopt a rabid skunk. Nice concept, she’d have a brother for Gil.

No. I HAVE decided. I’m not going to have a baby for her. I mean, I don’t want to get fat and not have any clothing and puke and all that….much less give birth…for my Mother. She wouldn’t really appreciate the effort. I think my Mom should just get a Chinese baby. I mean, heck, it’s better for the kid than living in an orphanage, isn’t it? I finally told her last night. She was pissed. I don’t know if she’s going to work on Gil. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason that Gil hasn’t had any kids, aside from her being a jerk.

Mack, what would I do that people would want to hurt me?

My life is okay. You might get the wrong idea and jump to conclusions. That is what you do, you know. It’s really not like I am getting hurt all the time. And, anyway, that’s just life. I don’t know what you mean about how you want to hurt me. You’ve never done that on purpose, have you?

You’ve always been nice. I know you care about me. I don’t understand why you don’t want to see me, or hang out with me, or date me, or boink me, and, aside from some really pissy letters, but that’s just how you are. I understand. Mack.

You must be reading more into this, finding the irony or something. Lighten up, silly boy! There is NO WAY I’m the cause of my problems. I don’t get you, Mack. You are so funny sometimes.

Yeah, like I put ads in newspapers asking for guys to come and dump on me, and go up to people and say “hey, want to abuse me.” You make me laugh, Mack. I mean, I can either take it as a joke or I could be really pissed off at you. I think I’ll just take it that you are in one of your “moods”.

Well, Mack, I can’t wait for your next letter. They tickle me so much. You are so funny.

All My Love, Aimee

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