A letter from July 26th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, Hey you, i’m not sure where you are in life so far, i hope you’re happy. I know that’s a kind of weird one because happiness is just the yang to the other side. but maybe i just hope you got a little better at looking for the good. I know i’m just rambling i don’t know what to write you while sitting on this tiolet taking my daily shat. Big garage sale today at dads house in San Leandro. I don’t think i’m gonna miss the house itself too much, but i feel weird about cutting that extra tie i had to him. I know he wanted you to live in it and maybe have kids in it or some straight **** like that. I just realized you’re probably not gonna remember writing this at all and might even think it’s some email scam so imma say things only i can know. 1. you don’t wash your hands for ****. like i don’t know if everyone does it but good god woman it’s covid times especially you gotta wash your hands when you pee, that whole immune system theory you have hasn’t been proved yet. but hey it’s future you, maybe look up some longitudinal study talking about how if you let your 6 year old eat dirt they’re gonna grow up hella strong unlike all these softies soy boys of the soap generation. We found a ton of holographic type porno posters at dads. like a lot of them. and on the way home we stopped for boba and opened the trunk and all these asian lady ***** pics spilled out onto the floor in the middle of that shopping plaza. it was funny but you also felt like **** from selling dads stuff all day. you kept the goodies though. Full fledged military grade gas masks, nunchucks with bruce lee’s face on them, some cool stuff from gary’s stuff like a wooden model helicopter and a giant ******* bullet(?) that’s significantly longer than my hand. It was weird going through our passed away dads stuff and finding his dads stuff, that he only recently aquired, admired, and looked through himself. some whole mind trip about how the stuff you own reflects on you. i feel cloudy. probably a lack of dabs cocktailed with a hard day. but gary’s mind loved the war, all sorts of memorabilia, photos with the boys, confederate general paintings (yeah those didn’t age well). but maybe that’s just what my dad kept of gary’s. my dad liked the war too, he had every kind of preparation for the upcoming apocalypse. he never got his war though. he might’ve loved covid. it felt like the pandemic he might have always been waiting for. another interesting pattern of the stuff he own was air filters. We found about 8 (not exaggerating) humidifiers (and keep it mind, this was at the san leandro house alone, that’s not counting his apartment), an air drying machine, and all sorts of other weird air controls. i remember he always had some sort of ailment or condition. he took a full breakfast of vitamins every day. it was incredible really, you’d watch him sit with his tub and slowly but surely take a pill from maybe 12 different vitamin bottles, one after the other. it was almost comical. it just seemed like discomfort. it seemed like he could never quite get comfortable. could’ve been he was diabetic, could’ve been that he was emotionally missing something and went on a forever path to cure it with remedies from doctors in chinatown. He really liked feeling like he was unlocking some special medicinal secret that the rest of the world was totally blind to. could have been, but cancer doesn’t quite care. I’m sorry if this isn’t super interesting to read, just a kind of mind dump from everything today that happens to be going to you. future me. what a ******* odd concept. i remember when we were a kid and would create notes or drawings to ourselves, or maybe even just a cool stuffed animal. and we would hide it away in the furthest depths of our closet in hopes of forgetting about it and finding it again. it worked well. My closet isn’t so messy these days, things can still hide, but this feels like the evolved version. I feel like ****. Not to be a downer or anything, i’m okay. just in a very matter of fact way. maybe that’s okay with everything going on. i hope so. anyways, if you’re not happy, i hope you’re a little smarter, a little braver, a little more open minded, a little kinder, a little stronger, a little more curious about this strange world. If not, get back to it *****. you’ve got an incredible universe waiting to be explored, don’t get stuck in that little box of yours. I love you. sincerely (and i mean it) Izzy P.S. you have dreams of being on a compound with cool pets and animals and if you abandon that dream because you’re “too busy“ and “poor“, i don’t care you ******* squiggle nugget bird, make it happen.