This has to go somewhere? It’s an email to FMK with whom a long-overdue conversation was finally occassioned by the sale of her latest book. That’s beauty. This ties in…

[Editor’s Note: For those who’ve all but forgotten the care, craft, and crap that went into the letterwriting of yore, we bring you a less-than-gentle reminder.]

Hey, here’s a conveniently lying-about example of those nearly nascent communications I was trying to describe for you: I thought your obedience comment below was clever and funny–an all-around deft play–and I gave myself clear and unmistakable instructions to convey that sentiment to you. Soon. And with all the sincerity that I felt run through my being that first halcyon moment I laid eyes upon it. But, perhaps even as soon as I was on to the next email, this new kind of life o’ mine scooped me up in a whoosh so whooshy that one, young Nike corporate brand guardian felt compelled to hire jet services to deliver cease and desist orders hardly past boilerplate. The tail winds continue to gather me in and wispily suck me along, carrying me ever-onward like a myth-bound christian soldier. What can a poor boy do but check and doublecheck the fasteners on his flak jacket, tug his lumpen, woolen scarf in a little tighter around the exposed portions of his neck, and dig to remember the logic of that rainbowy-hued, subHallmark, emailed sentimalization of the writer’s own terrible habit of half-assing his friendships along…it might have been something like this, I think:

Oh, hell yes I wrote that myself. Not a bit of help, no sir, that one’s all mine, and now I give it to you.

If memory serves (for a radical change), you’re not an iTunes user so here’s the NPR link to the AFG thang I telephonically blanked on, instead of the podcast…for whatever it’s worth. I didn’t realize it was about a movie; they don’t let me out much: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5368489

And this one for the road, because it has a very, shall we say, ‘focused’ moment of big-boned, rise-up-and-beat-down anger, and bonus related links, including one to a snippet about a South African gang of plus-sized women raiding stores; might be a better mine:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4785003

[Thanks, Ice!] [[And we gangstas, too, in our own little airy weigh.]]

And to you sigh’ll beakually ebreviated: ifound thebby low on Slate endit seamed rainking high enough on the rellyvant scayel to include infullend anknowtatered::

Shuh tit!

Mystery Man is emailing me little scenarios as I type this. He might well be a Keeper if we ever meet, in 9 months. You see, TBILB is simply the boy I like best. Not “best ever” or “best forever.” Just best. fmk’splawg

Now it’s crack dreams and warehouse pet store dreams. This must be the blessed silver lining of being employed. By the way, the crack dream last night was of the paperclipping-the-creamy-yellow-resin-in-pipe-while-knowing-I-was-blowing-a-good-run variety.

Desire is not whole. It is part and parcel.