yes I said yes I will Yes

Dear FutureMe, Try to remember this. It's fleeting, I'm sure. You're at the computer in the library, the one didn't work, the screen kept going off. You sat at this one after giving a quick glance to the woman behind the desk. I think she doesn't like that you have your earbuds in. At the moment it's Nightengale by Norah Jones playing, you've got all her songs on shuffle. You've just written a very heartfelt letter on paper, it's in the back of that brown bag if you still have it, or haven't moved it. I hope you've forgotten of it now. There are things I want for you, that will take both our willpowers to make happen. First, the joyful, easy things. Read Ulysses again, and read Dubliners too. While you're at it, read A Portrait of the Artist as a young man. You love Joyce too much, though, to read Finnegans Wake. I hope you maintain that it's terrible a year from now. You'll be 21, god I hope you haven't stopped drinking. I could see it happening, but don't you remember Drambuie, Sauvignon blanc? A glass of absinthe on the porch? That thought you just had, reading that, I hope you've figured that out. I think I just might have, but you never do know. On that front, on his front, I don't know what to tell you. Perhaps you've burnt your bridges, perhaps not. I wish the best. Presumably you've watched Star Wars and incorporated it into your cultural DNA as our society demands by now. I hope you've gotten a good hold of movies in general. Maybe a screenplay? Funny, this is only a year away, I don't care what you've been doing in school. You'll learn either way with every damn day passing. You're happy, I know we're always happy, never sad. I hope, though, that you're not so depressed. If you are (and sure it'll happen a bit), get something written down from it. It doesn't need to be Shakespeare, but seriously, I'd like an actual story to flip through, not pages and pages of references and plotlines and character sheets and motifs and themes. You can work those into the countless plots you're weaving once you've actually written THE DAMN THING DOWN. A little healthier? This isn't quite so joyful, but I do hope you've tightened up a bit, and loosened appropriately. If you've died, I hope its from bad ecstasy or a minor fall (can you hear the song?). It never rains where you want it to - Norah Jones again. An addendum, the grass is greener where it rains, eh? Living in your little palace presumably. I bet it's nice, lots of stuff on the shelf. Still have that medwakh? It was a little much that last time, I hope you don't smoke too frequently. You'll be 21, and being in this leftist utopia of Cascadia you can smoke Marijuana with abandon. How's the federal government faced that? I'd like to know, god knows I can't stand the smell, but people ought to do what they like. Like I said, dead by dirty syringes, right? Laugh, it was funny. Life is mundane. Do you remember that? All the people said the world was going to end, and they've been saying that since we got the damn thing started, so really what - were we to believe them? Life is mundane. People are a little terrible, but they're nice too, right? How's Rebecca? Do you still know her? Sure you do, well, maybe not. "We like her, we like her" laugh it was funny. You remember what was happening as you wrote this? That rather lovely letter I told you about, well, I REALLY want to know how that ends. Obviously I'll know in about four hours, but god knows when you'll figure it out. I do hope for the best, but of course, I also hope for something catastrophic, as always, our euphonic refrain LIFE IS MUNDANE! Smile at the thought. I hope you've bought make-up. I know, odd odd odd, but really I'd like to have some by then. Reward yourself with fine clothes too. Shop with your mother. God I do hope they're still alive, they were so much younger than you ever were. Don't think I'm pressuring you. I don't really envy youth, never have, you know that. I just hope you haven't fallen prey to nostalgia and imagination. But if you do, write that shit down. Tanaris and Siryorina! Oh god Tanaris and Siryorina, you absolutely have to remember that. Floating in the bath, reaching up, reaching down. Kuiena too, that whole damn world. Trains running across water and dried tear and rich broth. Read plenty, you know what, finish Alexandria Quartet, you don't love it about now, because Joyce is fresh on the mind, but do finish it. Read at least one more play of Shakespeare, something Indie, super underground, bitches don't know shit about Cymbeline... Listen to Wagner, hey, play the piano a little? You never visit you never call! Do you remember, perhaps you've lost your voice in a tremendous smiling accident. Stephen Fry lives, right? Maybe write a screenplay. Movies should be as high an art as any novel, right? They've got it all, they're a whole experience, you can catch life in a bottle, and Life is so wonderfully mundane! Now, some homework, I think. This will seem so short when you get it. Some time will have passed, things, I think, will be better. I'm planting a seed you know. Do you still write sonnets? Maybe get one down if you're still stuck. There's so many wonderful things you're going to forget, and thank god. Every morning you wake up with all those dreams and glories washed away. It's a little heartbreak, but imagine if you never made anything knew. There, that's the last guilt I'll leave you with. Imagine if you never made anything knew.