An Open Letter to the Psychotics of the Fairer Sex.

Dear Psycho-Chics,

What the fuck? Seriously. I know you represent a small minority of the women in the world but how can you be so fucking crazy and then think that doing something even crazier will fix your relationship?

If you are having a fight with your boyfriend over something stupid you don't put the car in park, jump out, and run away while your boyfriend is sitting at a stoplight next to a police car. If your boyfriend dumps your crazy ass for jumping out of the car and won't answer your calls sending a picture message of your wrist dripping blood and/or ketchup won't convince him to take your crazy ass back.

If you call him and say that you'll slit your throat if he doesn't come see you and then he doesn't show up it isn't because he doesn't care about you it is because you don't give a shit about him. If you did you wouldn't put him through that hell.

There is no hormonal excuse for this sort of behavior. You are just fucking crazy. Put down that broken piece of mirror you just cut your wrist with and look in it. Something is severely wrong with you. No man will ever fix that insecurity or insanity you have inside you. Seek help, please.

Sincerely,

Single Again.

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A Letter to Talent

Dear Talent,

Where have you gone? There was a point in my life where I seemed to be brimming over with the stuff and now it seems that was all a fraud. Maybe it wasn't talent, maybe it was youthful egotism. Maybe it wasn't an internal sense of drive and ambition but merely delusions of grandeur from a kid with an overactive imagination.

Now I am enveloped in static clouds of frozen nonsense. I'm too young for a midlife crises, too old for youthful indecision. The drip has hit, I'm stuck. Wordplay comes and goes. Sullivan, Burnham, Nabokov, Dostoevsky... etc. The more I study the greats the less I stack up. I'm missing something.

Maybe I need something really bad to happen to me. Maybe something really good. Maybe I need to shut up and ride out this recession. Maybe I shouldn't let it be a crutch.

Tolstoy told me that the more power you have the less freedom you have. I don't feel very free. I feel constrained by my limited time and resources. I crave independence. I want to succeed or fail. Rise to great heights or go down in a blaze of debt and bankruptcy. Either would make me happy. Ambiguity rots the soul.

Sincerely,

Depleted.

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A Letter to Chicago.

Dear Chicago,

Let's celebrate responsibly tonight. The world is watching (and so is the Olympic committee).

Sincerely,

Excited.

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