July 15, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: classic motifs such as hearts, stars, stripes, flags.... blah.
Date: Tue, 15 Jul 2003 17:17:33 +0000


remember: "there is always reason to madness."  your father's actions are 
completely rational.  to call the number by the phone could have only 
confirmed his worst suspicions.  'tis better to wait for you to come home 
and make you call, this way you could break the news of the horrible 
automobile accident/gas explosion/hungry bear/serial killer/al queda suicide 
attack that claimed the lives of your family to your delicate father gently. 
  in the meantime, it probably seemed fit to bury his head in the sand.

i like my mother's tact: she comes in my room at 8am and says, "are you 
coming to the school with me or are you tired since you didn't get home 
until 3:30am?"  busted?  i think not.  i regret to inform her that before i 
left the house last night, i had mentioned that i would either be arriving 
home early or very late.  nothing in between.  though i recognize the 
subjectivity of such a statement, i feel that 3:30am qualifies as "very 
late".  so what's the problem here?  she thinks that she's so clever, but 
it's not like i have anything to hide.  i predict that when she gets home, 
we will go through the whole "so, who were you with?  what did you do?" 
scenario.  its like clockwork.  i will drop her hints and when she retreats 
to her craftroom (which should be her painting studio, but she hasn't even 
touched the canvases i bought her [and she seemed so excited to receive 
them...]), she'll try to put it all together.  speak of the devil!  my dear 
mother just called.  the conversation panned out exactly as i said it would, 
though she's at work and cannot contemplate our communique in her craftroom. 
  the lunchroom will have to suffice.

"When was the last time you were watched by a jealous, irrational father 
while you made out in front of a latina's house?"
ahhh, young alma guiterrez.  so young.  so ripe (hehe, stealing your 
word)...  (ok, there is no such person.  i made her up.  she's the best 
friend of bob marsh and second cousin to josef klima).  i admit, last 
night i lost my 
making-out-in-front-of-a-latina's-house-while-her-father-looks-on virginity. 
  in fact, i'd venture to say that that was the first time any father (not 
just a latino) has done that (to my knowledge).  though, i'm not sure why 
he'd be "jealous".  does he want to make out with me, too?  i'll put him on 
the waiting list (sadly, he'd probably be second or third in line.  ho hum).

have fun at the cabin.  don't get killed in/by a/an horrible automobile 
accident/gas explosion/hungry bear/serial killer/al queda suicide attack.  
chances are, if you are reading this, none of the above happened, nor will 
my wish of "fun at the cabin" really matter.

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

--------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: hey, you've got to hide your love away (?)
Date: Wed, 16 Jul 2003 04:18:18 +0000


an email on age OR how to go slowly insane without allowing your friends to 
know (actually this email consists entirly of the former and nothing of the 
latter):

Abbey is thirty-seven.  mitchell is twenty-two.  allow us to continue from 
here.

a (slightly-modified) groucho marx quote to lighten the load of your 
self-prescribed moral indecency:  "A woman is only as old as the man she 
feels."

the feminist critique (the second half of this paragraph reads like 
propaganda [though not chinese propaganda]):
in discussion, my spiritual advisor (a cruel-hearted tamil militant oozing 
with 'woman-ness') remarked to me that an older woman (i.e. you) should 
possess an unequaled sense of empowerment that she should be able to wrap a 
young man (me) around her finger (well, maybe its not quite like that, but 
still, the sentiments run true).  certainly, the 'wimmin' at the womyn's 
centre would all be in your corner.  you are in a position of strength.  you 
are your own woman.  you've done something that many women your age dream 
(fantasize, really) about.  to hell with preconceived notions of 'proper' 
gender roles within an interaction between a woman and a man.  that shite is 
so painfully victorian it makes me want to vomit (in fact i did vomit when i 
thought about it, though it may have something to do with the large 
quantities of sherry that i consumed [a joke.  honestly]).

the conservative critique:
there are people who would say, "that's disgusting, what is he/she doing?" 
and think that we were insane.  there are people who think that homosexuals 
should not be allowed to marry (i'm sure you've read the letters to the 
editor in the free press).  some of these people also think that anglo saxon 
types should not reproduce with genetically-inferior types for fear of 
losing the 'pure' physical characteristics of the anglo saxon (these ones 
are especially mean).  these people attend church and have block parent 
signs in their windows.  they also drive minivans (for the mom) and suv's 
(for the dad).  we should avoid them at all costs and ignore their 
criticisms.

the marxist critique:
that a woman of your age should find herself attracted to a man my age is 
merely a historical inevitability.  it is unavoidable.  to deny it is to 
deny history.  to deny history is to deny the revolutionary potential of the 
proletariat (and one wouldn't want to do that).

in conclusion:
i enjoy being with you and i suspect that you enjoy being with me.  for me 
that is enough.  no qualifications, no 'ands', 'ifs' or 'buts'.  i, for one, 
do not care what other people may think.  it is my belief that our age 
difference is only as big of a deal as you make it.

that said, i hope that v.b. was fun and i look forward to seeing you.

catch you on the flipside,

benoit (i like this name)

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