Feet Up

Glad to hear you're right where you're supposed to be with your writing. Glad we've figured it out that all this psychotic bullshit is a necessary part of the game. Doesn't make it feel any better, but there is a sense of deep-rooted security... that we know this is part of the game, we've learned to expect it, to ride with it like a particularly bad skid on black ice... hanging on the steering wheel, breathing, remembering not to crank the wheel too hard because we've learned... learned in the past... learned that we just need to breathe and let the ice take us and hope for the best... that the worst thing we can do is try to fight the ice, try to turn the wheel...

We've learned... and the roller coaster goes up after it goes down... always...

Loved the note about parrying the thrusts of your would-be seductress. I'll say it again... I'm proud of you... if I were your wife I'd give you a night you wouldn't forget after showing such true bravery in front of the temptress (though I know and understand that your wife will never know of your triumph... if you shared your story, she'd still be pissed at you, regardless of how faithful you were... I know how that goes)

Did the sugar-free oatmeal cookies give you courage? Was it a Popeye thing? Was it a sexual thing? Part of me wishes you'd set up a little video camera. I imagine myself cheering as I watch those defenseless little cookies... marching in ranks from the back of the package... heads held high, waiting for the five-fingered army personnel carrier to drive them to the Iwo Jima beaches...

Great talking to you yesterday... like a shot in the arm, really... looking forward to seeing you today for coffee...