1. Animals.

2. The forest.

3. When someone touches my face or my hair.

4. Being so into an activity that I lose track of time.

5. Writing letters and receiving letters.

6. Being in the company of intellectual and funny people.

7. The ocean. 

8. Doing makeup.

9. Being dressed up.

10. Dressed up men.

(Photo by lostbooks on deviantart)

I recently watched a video on tumblr. I’m not going to name it because I honestly don’t like “calling out” people. But it generated some feelings in me that might not be fair to them personally, but just sort of proved something to myself.

The video consisted of a couple’s communications back and forth to each other and how their relationship has grown through just internet. The way that the girl asked him out was practically like this: “um…..will you be my bf? asdfhgfjhjljjgflhkdgjs :) ” And then the rest of the relationship was back and forth, consistent notes of “I love you,” “I love you more!” “You’re perfect” “You are more perfect” etc. Verbatim.

If anyone asked me out with “asdfghjklladfhjfskgj;”…I would reconsider where I’ve been going out during the day.

…Well, actually, if anyone asked me out via anything that gave them the ability to type/write “asdfghjklladfhjfskgj;”, it would be an obvious no. Unless they said it aloud. Then I would reconsider who I was even talking to and their sanity.

Is that what relationship correspondence has fallen to these days? I mean, they’re young, so it’s not an attack on them, but I know that most people are like this when it comes to relationships in the modern world. I would need so much more than that. It’s so mindless to me to just go back and forth and say words that end up meaning nothing. Correspondence to a loved one should be something that no one else can understand, or that everyone can understand the simple beauty of. It takes courage and effort to really write something of substance and beauty, so when something like “you’re so perfect” is written, why would that mean anything when it has no effort?

I’m not asking for poems or Keats letters…although that would be nice.

It doesn’t even have to be a big effort. Example, a la James Joyce:

15 August, 1904

“My dear Nora,

It has just struck me. I came in at half past eleven. Since then I have been sitting in an easy chair like a fool. I could do nothing. I hear nothing but your voice. I am like a fool hearing you call me ‘Dear.’ I offended two men today by leaving them coolly. I wanted to hear your voice, not theirs.

I have been a half-hour writing this thing. Will you write something to me? I hope you will. How am I to sign myself? I won’t sign anything at all, because I don’t know what to sign myself.”

a point in your life where you are disgusted with people; with everyone you know. You might say to yourself, I will disappear, and no one will find me. That will show them. But don’t do that. Continue with your life, but be alone. Disappear, but by your own means. Don’t go out of your way. Some will start looking for you, and you won’t be able to avoid them. Text messages, letters, phone calls, emails, eyes in mail-slots…Those are the people who should matter to you.

This ad made me cry. Absolutely beautiful and happy.

I fell asleep pen in hand

and when I woke I was surprised…

in dreaming state I could not hide

t­he love for you I keep inside.

My bed was littered as were my walls, ­

nightstand, left arm

­ legs and torso too,

every space within my reach

­ ­ all filled with scribbled thoughts of you.

You said you wanted
me to come over,
and even though it
was nearly midnight,
I agreed.

I hit every red light
between here and
your house: start
stop wait and wait
and wait and start
just to stop and wait
again, stuck listening to
weight-loss infomercials,
right-wing talk radio,
that god-awful jingle
for the lawyer that
tries to sound like
a wild-west cowboy.

Idling under these red
cyclops eyes, I wanted
to tell you that this had
to stop, that I was going
home, that I’d see you
tomorrow, maybe,
but I finished the drive
and remembered why:
the red scent of your hair;
your lips against my neck,
saying,
“I’m glad you’re here.
I’m so glad you’re here.”

Get a regular-sized envelope. Address it to someone special. Then, stuff it with as many things as you can: a letter, photographs, ripped out magazine articles, photocopies of poems, a short story, or passages from a novel, recipes, clipped newspaper articles, art work, poems or stories you’ve written… Anything that can be folded up and put in the envelope. Make sure to stuff it so full that you need to use tape to keep it sealed. This envelope should have serious heft. Once it’s sealed, get the proper postage put on it (definitely use stamps) and mail it off.

Your brain in love.