Sinister: I'm just a gelatin pipe and I twist within an inch

[Melissa Williams]

Dear Stranger:
Hi.  I'm new.  I don't know whether I should tell about myself or not, but 
I'm going to, cause damned if I can think of a single interesting thing to 
say about Belle and Sebastian.  So.  I'm 19 and I would be in my junior year 
of college, but I'm living with my family instead right now.  This is not by 
choice.  They're all okay, but I live in the armpit of the United States 
(Henderson, North Carolina.  Anybody on this list live close by?).  I work 
at the library in town.  The rest of the time, I read like a maniac.  Right 
now I'm reading a book about the history of psychiatry and _Ulysses_, for 
the 7th time.  I am not kidding when I say that I'd die for that book.  This 
isn't because I am some sort of prodigy who understands it or anything crazy 
like that.  I just think it's the funniest and most beautiful and most 
perfect book there is.  If you let yourself be confused, it stops being 
intimidating and starts being a blast.  Okay.  When I'm not reading, I'm 
often writing (just poetry; good prose is beyond me).  I like to sculpt and 
paint and play the flute and all that artsy stuff.  I'm a big dilettante, 
but only because I don't have any talent for anything in particular.  I like 
the Beatles and Bob Dylan and Mozart and Bruce Springsteen and Dvorak and 
pretty much any music from the latter part of the sixties.  I'm learning 
auto mechanics, so sometimes I work on my car when it's warm.  When I was in 
school, I majored in English and German, but I want to go to med school.  My 
big dream is to be a pediatric psychiatrist, but I'm not convinced that 
it'll happen.  If I can't do that, I'll probably be a writer (just not the 
kind I would like to be).  I smoke a lot.  I have depression and OCD, and 
people scare the shit out of me, but I'm lucky in that I have a really 
fabulous psychiatrist.  I'm still pretty lonely and unbalanced and all that, 
but my chemical problems are starting to clear up some.  Okay, that's 
enough.  I'm sorry for being lame and talking about myself for forty-seven 
years, but I think maybe this way someone who likes the same stuff as me 
will email me.
I had this crazy dream last night for the second time in a few weeks.  In 
the dream, my nipples had turned into full-sized antlers.  Yes, antlers.  
(Dream nipples don't count as a body part mention, do they?  Well, I'll take 
my chances.)  They were all blackened and they were molting (that's what 
it's called, right?  Where that velvety stuff falls off?).  They were huge 
and they kept getting all tangled up in each other.  I couldn't wear a 
shirt, so I was walking around bumping into walls with these huge 
antler-nipples.  The worst thing was, they weren't made out of bone, or 
whatever it is that real antlers are made of.  They were just regular nipple 
material.  So all the bumping into things _really_ hurt.  I know that it all 
means something very important, but what?  The Shadow knows...
All right, that's all.  Time for a cigarette.  Take care...
Melissa W.


********************************************
* "Are you the ring in the peacock's tail, *
*  the round stone temple on an arid       *
*  mountain, the black belly of a fish     *
*  in moon rings?  Are you a footprint     *
*  glazed on the urn of the sand,          *
*  the litter-shield of a warrior's body,  *
*  a bride in a white hut,                 *
*  the drum or its message of love?"       *
*                                          *
*      -Jay Wright, "Inscrutability"       *
********************************************

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