July 06, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: evil men have no songs
Date: Sun, 06 Jul 2003 22:24:57 +0000

wow. your email was the electronic equivalent of one caressing my face.
very nice. very nice, indeed. see, you can be kind.

an admission: like squirrels, cats, and Abbeys, mitchell, too, has feelings.
though events have transpired in the not so distant past (five years or so),
which would have desensitized the softest of troops, mitchell is not so
immune from joy, fear, pain, envy (ok maybe not envy), as he may lead on
(don't worry, this is going somewhere). the other day, i decided that i
wanted to buy you a birthday gift. i wanted to buy you something thoughtful
(but which could be written off as mindless). something nice (and at the
same time, bad). something that says, "i like you", without actually
saying, "i like you". a sketchbook seemed ideal (please tell me you opened
the pencil first). so, this is where i stand. this explains the gift.

yes, it was very sincere, despite its delivery (a part of me was afraid
you'd say, "i don't want a present from you." did you note the absence of a
card? that was intentional. i also wanted to write on the inside cover
"art is not a mirror to reflect the world, but a hammer with which to shape
it", but i knew that would make you groan. why do you make me
self-conscious?).

another admission: i do not have any "aquaintances". mostly just friends.
ergo, i would not be mean to them because they do not exist. you are not my
aquintance. you're in your own special grouping, labelled, "undetermined".
on why mitchell is mean: reduced to mathematical calculations, allow me to
explain that the formula of my cruelty is 50:40:10. 50% of it is a defense
mechanism. i do not believe that i was ever mean to you until you started
picking on me. now i have to pick up for my initial slack. for this
portion of my cruelty, you can blame only yourself. 40% is the
often-mentioned school-yard syndrome. as i mentioned previously, i am bob
marsh and i put spiders in your hair only because i have not yet developed
the proper social functions to say, "hey, you know what? i think you're a
great person and i'd like to hold your hand/kiss you/romp wildly with you."
i could have sworn that i was beyond the "school-yard syndrome", but for
some irrational reason, you have brought a return of this juvenile behavior
in me (do you see the pattern yet? i mentioned before that nothing is ever
100% my fault. case in point). the final 10% is undetermined. it is a
secret without an answer. is the universe infinite? when will i die? is
the sky a mere reflection of the sea or the sea merely a reflection of the
sky (i'm sure this one has an answer)? did allende kill himself or die
gloriously defending chilean democracy and socialism? who knows? not you,
not me, not anyone.

what people tell me: i am often told that i have a remarkable capacity to
make people feel very comfortable and safe. people trust me. i can make a
stranger feel like they've known me for years. riddle me this: why are you
different? why are you difficult? why would you feel leary? i do not
understand. are my magical powers useless around you?

i warned god not to let it rain on your picnic today or else i'd be very
pissed. he/she listened. the sun is coming out.

is it your feeling that we actually get along? or is it only when we
converse in your head that we understand one another?
a word on my internal conflict. last night i was tired and could not think
of anything clever to explain the paradox that is mitchell. i really think
that the apollo/dionysus analogy works quite well. for example, i love the
nietzschean maxim, "the formula to my happiness: a yes, a no, a straight
line, a goal." very apollo. on the flipside, i prefer sponteneity. i
don't really want to know how the story ends. very dionysus. nothing too
complex. i am a walking contradiction, but then again, whose not?
you have a rather busy schedule. let's look at mine: sunday night i have
plans, monday night i have plans, tuesday night i have class. wednesday
night i'm free. thursday night i have class. i'm always game for going out
after class (either yours or mine). we'll figure something out. pity that
you're going away this weekend. my parents are going to swan river. i will
be all alone. sigh.

i'd like you to compromise yourself more. be an open book.
good day, ma'am,
mitchell

p.s. did i tell you this: the same part of me that feared you to be a
hermaphrodite also suspected that you would have wickedly nasty breasts (i'm
laughing right now). although i wanted to enjoy them in the past, i just
couldn't bring myself to go near them (part of the reason that i act like a
virgin when i'm near you). history has taught me many lessons, including:
just-because-her-breasts-look-fine-when-she's-dressed-doesn't-mean-she-won't-have-monstrous-nipples.
last night brought me comfort.
i am a new boy-man.
p.p.s. although i said it last night and you scoffed, i do think you are
very beautiful.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~