Saturday, September 26, 2015


Dear X,

What would it be like to go to San Francisco and sit in a hotel all day? What would it be like to go to New England and break your foot and stare at a tree? What would it be like to order a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and say to the waiter, “I hate hot chocolate!” Would he scrape off the whipped cream and put it on a little plate for you? Are you supposed to say ‘Thank you’?

These are the things I think about when I think about marriage and things that are painted blue.

Love,

Ricky


Dear X,

Only after I saw this Canadian movie about a girl working in a mattress store did it occur to me that in order to set up the mattress store you would have to do it when no customers were there which would mean you would have to set up all the beds at night, which is a good time to go to sleep. But she is in a mattress store with a bottle of champagne in her desk and a handsome man from Nigeria boxing mattresses nearby.

Love,

Ricky


Dear X,

Last week I wrote a letter to Harry’s Razors to complain about the excessive postage on their creamy, delicious shaving gel. I received a courteous response today, informing me that all orders over $10 would receive free shipping. The courteous response was from a man named Larry, who works at Harry’s. I sent a letter in response thanking him for his kind letter, and hoping that my next reply will from Harry’s will come from Gary, and then Mary, and then Carrie, and then Barry, and then Terry, and finally from someone who cannot eat dairy, who stares at the office walls of Harry all day long, and is referred to as ‘Starey’, although not to her face. One mustn’t stare at Starey. Her real name must be Sherrie.  I love sherry. It’s so elegant and sweet.

Love,

Ricky (Jerry)



Dear X,

Did you ever want to live in that beautiful green field filled with peas on the Green Giant Frozen Peas pack? I always did. When I was a kid I would stop and stare at it for a long time. Now sometimes I go to the store when I can’t sleep.  I just stand there. 

Love,

Ricky


Tuesday, September 22, 2015


Dear X,

Recently a friend wrote to me and said “That is a very small cow.” I feel you should never judge a cow by its size. And this is only a photo of a cow. If you want to judge something, judge the photograph. It’s very grainy, and the cow is blinking because it is so bright outside.

The photographer is a mean man who does not understand small cows.  Why did he bring her to this studio? There is nothing to play with here and t is so cold and damp, although unusually sunny as well. You can see it all in this cold, small photo.

Love,
Ricky


Dear X,

I think that people talk about metaphors more than they talk about real windows. Except on days like this in September.

Love,

Ricky


Dear X,

When I first repaired a bicycle tube, I melted a rubber patch on the tube itself and then glued it in place. The basement was lit by a single bulb and I don’ t remember anything about the bicycle but I remember the color of the patch, the stickiness of the glue, and how the light bulb warmed the room golden. Once I had finished repairing the tube, I took the bicycle out on a ride but I don’t have any idea if I enjoyed the ride on the bicycle I repaired that I have no idea if it looked like this or like that. It was a beautiful, sunny day.

Love,

Ricky


Monday, September 14, 2015


Dear X,

I enjoy looking at different parts of the body photographed extremely close, so close that it is sometimes difficult to recognize what part of the body it is, or sometimes you confuse it was a desert. As the photographer draws away, you see that there is an engagement ring or a nipple in the dessert. Likewise for the model, who now can see, as the photographer draws away, the purity of blue in his eyes. Before they just looked like an ocean at the edge of the desert.

Love,

Ricky


Dear X,

Before I leave tomorrow, I will buy roses when the shop opens which is 8:00. If it opened at 7:00, it might be a little dark out soon, or if I waited a few more months, it would definitely be dark. If I waited a month or two more, as I left the shop, the roses would freeze, my car wouldn’t start, and I would think about a fireplace in that cabin we stayed in one time long ago and how it burned down so quickly. Was that us?

Love,

Ricky



Dear X,

I pressed the lilies into the mulch of the cherry tree and just as I did, the sun broke through the clouds. So I removed the lilies from the mulch and tried it again. It began to rain. A man in a wheelchair began to sing.

Love,

Ricky

Wednesday, September 02, 2015


Dear X,

What would happen to me if I decided I wanted to be a silent screen star? What do you imagine my life would be like from now on? I means this sincerely. When I ask other people the same question, they pretend not to hear me.

Love,

Ricky


Dear Y,

I have tabulated the ages of my elementary school teachers. According to my calculations:

Mrs. Doak (ornery) is now 114
Mrs. Bollinger (“Mrs. Bowling Ball”), 109
Mrs. Yeager (snowy white hair), 124
Mrs. Melville (milk and cookies recess), 111
Mrs. Zellner (big tummy), 98.
Mr. Mitchell (?)

I will call Mrs. Zelner first. I still feel bad when she got pregnant and had a baby and came back and we all shouted WE LOVE YOU and she cried and the baby screamed. We loved her so much.

Love,
Ricky



Dear X,

Sometimes I imagine things in their totality. Like a cow on my plate when I eat steak. A field of wheat above and below my bologna. An olive tree in my martini glass. I imagine a holy man walking past my martini named Jesus and he is so pale.

Love,
Ricky


Dear X,

Chopin’ sister, Ludwika, took Chopin’s heart back to Poland in a jar filled with alcohol under her skirt. How she loved him so. How strange she was. And lonely.

Love,
Ricky


Dear X,

I always complain that my work place has no soul. If you stay long enough it becomes quiet at night, and you realize there is nothing there at all. But sometimes when I get home, and I stay up long enough, I realize that my home has no soul either. But today I found a photograph of a girl hiding in a straw tree. She’s hiding there but she’s waving, too, and smiling. 

Love,
Ricky


Dear X,

Recently I bought an expensive hand-held  tape recorder (The Tascam DR-44WL) and I put it on my desk. I didn’t touch it for over a month. I couldn’t decide if there was nothing that I wanted to remember, or if there was nothing that I should remember. 

I could hear the sound of birds as I sat at the desk. They sang beautifully at dawn. And so one morning, before I watered the crab apple tree, I took the tape recorder and I left it next to the bird feeder. 

When I awoke the next morning, I could hear the sound of birds, coming from a tape recorder, but the tape recorder was gone.

Love,
Ricky

Real Time Analytics