Here is the letter with what I?d like to say to the balding little weasel. If you want to skim through his nonsense to get to my rather, um...pointed
comments, feel free! The well-written bits in red are mine.
My Dear Diane,
I know you are shocked to be reading something from me. I am shocked, in a way, to be writing to you. I have thought about writing you for over a month now. I have wrestled with it, as I have wrestled with mySelf,
(Your self isn?t any more special than anyone else?s, so stop with the affectation!) wrestled the dark angel in the abyss.
*Rolls eyes*
I know that you might well be laughing at my writing you, or disgusted by my writing you, or outraged by my writing you.
(Ding! Ding! Ding!) And I am not holding my breath that you are welcoming my writing. I am writing you out of the true rootstock of all writing--I am being told to write you. Cosmic Sam is having it demanded of him. You know, by the voices. Those voices that haunt writers, and haunt people with something burning its way out from inside of them.
(When you refer to yourself in the third person it?s a sign that you?re cracked. Mentioning the voices just clinches the deal.)
You should know that I am not where you probably think I am. You will know in time, as you read, where I am.
(Nope, we know exactly where you are!)
I want you to know what gave flame at last to the sparks that have been flying about for over a month. Very recently, independently of each other, both my mom and dad mentioned you, and mentioned us together. My mom said, "Diane really loved you, you know."
(Note the past tense of ?love??) And my dad made it abundantly clear that he wishes you and I could "mend fences". (My family also really, really want me around for Xmas. I also found out a couple months back from my mom that my dad soon felt very low-down about not having allowed me to stay at his house in the Summer.)
(What must you have done that your own parents won?t even take you in?)
Then something else happened--it snowed today. After the snow had stopped, the sun came out in glory. I went for a walk in the inch or so of snow and watched the snow reflect the sunlight. As I did that, my mind became made up. It became fully made up for only the third time in the last almost-three years.
And I came in here to write you.
It is very, very difficult to write you. I am halfway choking up as I do so.
(Only halfway choking up? Does that mean you don?t care enough to choke up all the way? Or that you need both hands on the keyboard?) This is made all the worse by my knowing that I can realistically only expect you to be sitting there at your PC and laughing at me or flipping the bird at the screen. Or, even just shrugging in indifference with, "So what?"
I did something I needed to do. It was hard to do; painfully hard.
(It was painfully hard to leave the woman who?d been supporting you and loving you to go to the woman you?d been cheating on her with? Or was it just painfully hard?) Now I am doing something else I need to do. It is even harder than the first thing, but it is right; it is right, and good.
I am writing to you from Minneapolis's New Community Shelter. You know, one of those places where homeless people have to live. Yeah. I ended up here one week ago today (it's a living Hell). And before that I drifted; I have drifted since October 23rd. Drifted homeless and with no direction, cut off from my work (the Net and my writing and all the things I had lined up).
(Did we call it or what??? You are exactly where you deserve to be?the place you?ve earned as you?ve earned no other.)
And I am homeless because I left my home; the home that I am feeling more and more strongly all the time was my right one, in the end. I thought I was homeless then, and came looking for my home. I thought I had it, I thought I had come to it, and at first I felt that way fully. But I didn't. It was all an illusion.
(Like your fidelity.) It was all ghosts. Yet, I had to make the journey. It was the right thing to do, because it was necessary; necessary then.
(Still trying to convince yourself that going to the Other Woman was the right thing to do? Necessary? Perhaps necessary if you wanted to avoid using all that lotion, but other than that?) It was necessary because I had not done what was right or necessary with regards to it all previously. Perhaps then I was unable, being semi-incapacitated as I was.
(Well, most people don?t talk about ED, but you brought it up! No wait, that?s a problem with ED. Sorry to remind you?) Being mad as I was.
(The old insanity plea, eh?)
But even medically it's true that madness is with genius close aligned.
(Then why on Earth would you have it?)
So. Let me reveal to you what I wrote to my mom back on October 27th...
Hi Mom,
Well, I have really strange news.
I am in the city of Minneapolis (I am writing this from the public library.)
Carla has some very bad problems. I am going to say as little as possible out of respect for her privacy, but of course you need to know certain things.
Essentially, Carla's to-be ex-husband is a monstrosity. He is very sick in the head.
(From the ?takes one to know one perspective,? you?d know.) They have been separated since December of last year. However, there was no divorce yet, although Carla wants one and has been wanting one.
Well, in short he has of course decided to start causing problems, which include the threat of taking away the two youngest of Carla's children (the two she had with him). He cannot succeed in doing this in the long run because he is sub-human
(see above) and has no true case against Carla, but in the near-term he is causing her mental and emotional anguish.
He claimed in divorce papers that he had served (he was the one who had delayed the divorce proceedings, but of course the arrival of Carla's best friend--namely, me--sparked his sick self to action)
(?Best friend?? Is that a euphemism for ?the person banging her now?? Well, trying to.) that I am a "potential threat" to the two youngest children.
(Does driving with an expired out-of-state license after you?ve been drinking count?) HA! Of course, I am not, and he has absolute zero evidence for my being so; he just made it up to cause trouble. However, as these things go, the court hearer for now is wanting to err on the side of caution. A court order was given stating that I am not allowed to have any contact with the two children whatsoever (by the way, they totally adore me) so long as this divorce procedure is in process. (Also, if in the event the husband were to get himself a "significant other", that person would also not be permitted any contact with the two children during this time.) It was brought up in the first, rushed court hearing by Carla's defense that the husband did not do anything to have his children removed from my presence or the house when he was oh-so-worried about me being a "threat"; so that makes his stance even more absurd.
(No more absurd than yours!)
Carla is so utterly stressed out by what he is pulling--and I am only giving you the tip of the iceberg--that she sent me away.
Now, this is very crazy, obviously.
I did not get any work published during my stay there (I had told you I was making out well, because I knew that when my PC finally arrived from you and we could get that set up that I would have a large amount of material to publish, but the jerk husband has managed to interfere with that, too, so that my PC was never set up and I had to help Carla in other ways), so my $ is down to hardly anything...
(Yeah, it takes forever to plug in a computer, I must say. *Rolls eyes*)
Once again, Diane, I am sacrificed on the stone altar. The stone altar of Carla's problems (and that of her children, too, this time). I did not tell my mom that Carla also transformed into the Atomic Bitch and reverted once again into curling up behind her walls, pushing me away, kicking me in the face.
(Is this the part where we?re supposed to start feeling sorry for you and the mess you got yourself into, or should we wait a while?)
Once her fears amounted to critical mass, she decided that we can have NO contact with each other, for fear that Bozo would find out and somehow keep using that to attack her. But Bozo should've been taken care of years ago. Bozo should not command respect; I should.
(Why should you command respect? Because you?ve been instrumental in breaking up two marriages? Cheated on the woman who gave you her everything? Had to ask for someone to give you money for the bus trip to be with the other woman?)
I have had my last to do with this crazy wench who never gets rid of her demons. I have come in the flesh, I have had in-person and physical contact,
(Thanks again for the reminder of your infidelity. That?s always good when you?re trying to get back in with the girlfriend you cheated on.) I helped (before forced out) to get things cleaned up, to be her rock...and for that, I get to be homeless.
(No, you get to be homeless because you don?t have a real job, and won?t work to support yourself, and have sponged off of others for way too long. You?re homeless because that?s what you?ve earned by ?doing by not doing.?)
Since October 23 I have contacted the Atomic Bitch seven or eight times;
(Some people are slow learners.) I have received not one shadow of a reply in any way. I am only 50 minutes away and I might as well be across the globe.
And I have started to feel synchronicity. I needed to come to Minnesota somehow; I could never be mentally clear again until I did that;
(You will NEVER be mentally clear if you keep going the way you are now!) but now I need to go, and go forever.
(Yup, cuz she kicked your sorry butt out and you have nowhere to live.) I cannot take the ridiculous volatility and instability anymore. How can intelligence be so stupid?
(I?ve asked myself that about you, and have come to the conclusion that you?re not half as smart as you believe. And you?re just as ?smart? as I thought.) Even my mom now talks of Carla's "abandonment" of me--I never used that word about it with my mom. Yet she's right--that is precisely what it is. Never again. I know that Carla does not mean these things coldly or in hostility, but she has now proven herself too indifferent to my feelings, and she has also shown that she doesn't know how to be with someone.
(Just like you were indifferent to Diane?s feelings? And you have certainly shown you don?t know how to be with someone.) She has now shown that in person, not just through letters sent from afar. Never again. I have been abused too much.
(YOU have been abused too much?? *Pauses to throw up* Did she cheat on you? Lie?) I don't matter enough.
(No, you don?t. In the grand scheme of things, you?re a silly, insignificant boil on the butt of humanity.) I can't trust her to be sensitive to my heart any longer.
(Let?s just say she was as sensitive to your heart as you were to Diane?s.) With all that we shared, for her to remain so ready to sacrifice me on the stone altar is truly dis-eased.
(Another one of your pseudo-intellectual affectations?) Hell, I wasn't even facilitated in doing "our" work.
No, I was not a "puppet". Just not put ahead of someone's deep-set personal problems. Just a sacrifice.
(NOW are we supposed to feel sorry for you? Or are we still waiting?)
Earlier today, I decided it was time for me to give up on that relationship entirely.
(I think that?s a moot point, as she left you to rot in the homeless shelter.) It was what it was. Now it is gone.
I no longer need other people's diseases.
(You have plenty of your own?) I'm sick of being sickened. Remember that fire of unknown origin that you loved me for? Its flame burns bright again. I'm deeply sorry that it was going out when you first met me.
I have suffered in the dark backward and abysm of Hell for these five weeks that have seemed like five years.
(Now???) Hemingway said that the world breaks everyone, and then many arise from that stronger in the broken parts. I had to go out and be broken. Now I am stronger. With strength comes sight.
(With wearing your ex-girlfriends old glasses comes sight too. How pathetic.)
I want you to know, Diane, that way before any of this happened, I was going to send you and the boys nice Xmas presents (Don't ask me what, but I knew they were going to be nice) and I was going to write you a very long and sincere letter with yours.
(?Was going to? was one of your favorite phrases with Diane, as I recall. You were going to stop drinking, get a job, do the dishes, get Diane a gift for Xmas, etc?.) I never got to tell the Atomic Bitch that (yes I was going to but she threw me away way too soon
(No, I think she threw you away right on time, because isn?t that what you do with the trash before it starts to stink up the whole house?) before Xmas), but I knew that I was going to do that. I've never been "alright" with how we left things.
(I take it you put that word in quotation marks because you realize it?s a bastardization of ?all right?? Being the "great writer" and all...)
When I first arrived here, I have to say I was excited and overjoyed and everything felt perfectly, naturally right.
(Thanks for emphasizing that, as I don?t think Diane hurt enough when she found out you?d been cheating on her all that time.)
Then at last, when my "perfect mate" kicked me in the face
(Personally, I?d have aimed lower.) and abandoned me yet again, my thoughts became very lucid--as if all at once--about how and why things had gone wrong with you and me. It was like I had been telling you, too--I had not worn the ghost rider hat for long enough, if at all, before we got together.
(Don?t EVEN compare yourself to Neil! You don?t deserve to lick his motorcycle boots!) That was something I should have done, and I should have known that. Maybe I did not trust that you would have still been around after I had come back from that.
(Well, being an expert on fickleness, perhaps you are right.) It's also like another thing I always told you--which is, I was not taken away by my "lust" for some "other woman".
(Of course not! That must not have been you talking about needing to bang her in all those emails Diane and I read after Carla forwarded them? We all know you lived with Carla in a strictly platonic relationship, sleeping on the couch and watching her kids. *Rolls eyes again* Wait, that story sounds so familiar?.)
What was true was that we needed to get closer, you and I. But--I gave up. And I was torn in two. In my distance and in my impromptu, forced ghost riding expedition, I realized how. I need to share these thoughts with you.
Again, right now you might be laughing at me hysterically, or flipping me off and saying to yourself that I am getting my just desserts, or feeling that sweet vengeance is yours, or all of that. I have no right to tell you not to do or feel any of these things.
(Here you are right, for once.)
All I can do is ask you to listen; listen with the ears and mind of that blue-eyed, buxom gal who just a few months ago wrote to me, "I'm not ready to say 'goodbye.' I will never be ready to say that to you."
(She woke up and realized that yes, she?s ready. She doesn?t want or need a ?friend? like you in her life.)
I came to see that we just needed a few things to be put into their right places; just a few changes.
(Changes like being faithful? Not carrying on with other people? Getting a job? Drying out?) And I will begin with myself--for in addition to starting to see with clear and clearing eyes again, I have made some changes.
I broke my caffiene addiction.
(That would be ?caffeine,? ?genius.? What with all the booze you knocked back every day, I can see how not drinking coffee is your first priority. It must have been harshing your mellow!) I had to do that to do something else of greater importance, but that was very important in and of itself, too. It took me nearly a month of headaches, partial lethargy, and nap attacks
(The horror!), and I did it by the end of September. I have been having some caffiene again very recently, but only because I have been sleeping so not-at-all so often. That leads into...
Yes, I have severely curbed my imbibing. Four or five days of imbibing per month are all I care about now--here-and-there benders to celebrate life and clear my ceaselessly whirring writer's brain. And with that comes the self-control not to crave doing dumdum things like, oh, imbibing when home alone watching over children.
(Actually, alcoholics need to avoid drinking altogether. Once an alcoholic, you can never become a ?social? drinker, just like a person addicted to nicotine can never become a ?social? smoker. Since I know you drank 8-16 ounces of vodka in one day, I?d have to say that makes you an alcoholic. Oh, and putting the empty cans of beer back in the container to hide how much you drink is also a strong sign.) I wish to get the rest of my much-needed relaxation from returning to my intensely athletic ways, the ways of the cross-training, competitive runner. I'm partly there, but it's been nearly impossible to get fully into that again what with my circumstances.
(I imagine if you leave your few pitiful possession in the homeless shelter, they?ll get stolen. Plus, with your skanky, scruffy looks the police will probably think you?re running from the scene of a crime and arrest you. That, or correctly identify you as a homeless man and take you back to the shelter before you get your heart rate up where you want it. Don?t worry, ?Junior? (or is that Rick?) back at the shelter will take care of that for you in exchange for a few sips of his cheap wine.)
I see also that if we just found a couple more common interests (besides Queen and hot sex and my perverse sense of humour, hee hee), and pursued them together with some intensity, we would have been very strong together. In our time apart, I have thought that we would be great together at astronomy and photography. I know we had been talking about photography together anyway.
(Of course! Talking about and studying astronomy and photography would have negated the whole ?other woman? thing.) And I want to tell you, sweet Diane, that I blame myself at least partially for the gap,
(PARTIALLY??? The lying, cheating man blames himself PARTIALLY???) because I have no doubt that I wasn't focused on you and us enough to draw you in as I might well have been able to otherwise.
(Yes, carrying on with Carla certainly drew your focus away from Diane, so I agree with you there.)
I have also been thinking about how you wanted me to be a personal trainer to you. Well, slow and dense me finally came to think "yoga". We could do yoga together. And--heh--we could get you doing horse-stances so as to get your otherwise hot body a hot tush.
(Speaking of slow and dense, here?s a hint: When trying to insinuate yourself back into your ex-girlfriend?s good graces, it?s not a good idea to tell her you?ll help her get her butt in shape.)
I want you to know a few other things, Diane. I want you to know that you don't have to try to read a hundred newspaper articles online or in print or in any other media in order to try to match my mind.
(To match your mind, perhaps she should read pornography and books on how we came from aliens and worship the ancient Egyptians, or perhaps about sleeping with your sister, but I don?t think she wants to dirty her mind with all that.) You don't have to be a poet, or an artist, or be able to dance like Shakira, or play the piano, or study the possibility of extraterrestrials, or like science fiction, or understand everything I write,
(There?s a time and a place for $5 words, and just because you know them doesn?t make you any more intelligent than the next person. Throwing them about in an effort to ?impress? others with your knowledge or to attempt to make them feel inferior doesn?t make you impressive. It just makes you stuffy, conceited, and boring.) or play chess. I would like it if in Spring and Summer you'd tend the gardens with me, but again it's not some "requirement". And forget this dichotomy that you think exists between us, like "you're math, I'm words". Nah! I am fascinated by mathematics, and it gets into my thinking surreptitiously.
All I would ask of you is: please see that I am no "closet romantic"
(You preferred in front of the webcam, right?), but romantic with every move I make. Please see that I am hardly "closed", but more open than most others. That's it.
(?More open? means ?I lie about having contact with Carla and writing emails in which I fantasize about sleeping with her and talk about seeing her naked in the webcam??)
I know you probably want nothing to do with me ever again. I know that your friends and family and maybe the boys and maybe everyone who works at Joe's probably now despise me. But I'm telling you anyway: I miss my home. Our home.
(It never was your home. It was Diane?s and you just lived in it and didn?t pay the house payment or household expenses but expected a single mom with two boys to feed you and buy your booze.)
I miss the boys. I miss going to Joe's for an hour and coming home six hours later. I miss being lord of the woodstove. I miss cooking for us. I miss our bender-and-music-and-sex weekends. I miss our travel. I miss music-and-Pente (and I would never drink while playing against you again!)
(Is that why you think you lost? Because you were drinking? And not because Diane is better at strategy? Because that might imply that she?s as smart as (actually, smarter) than you?) I miss making you laugh. I miss being your best friend. I miss making you feel like you can do anything.
(Actually, for the longest time you made her feel like she couldn?t do anything. You made her feel ugly, unwanted, and stupid.) I miss making your eyes shine with blue fire. I miss the cat's motorboat purring. I really miss you doing things like putting together a folder of my writings (that breaks my heart every time I think of it).
(Do you know she shredded that? No, I remember now?she threw them in the trash because they were worthless.)
I know you think you've heard it all before.
(Yes, she has.) But here's something you have not heard from me before: I'd never keep my doings all private and hidden anymore.
(You told her that before, when you lied and said you?d not heard from Carla and threw open your email for her to see.) That would be my other change. Yeah, I'd still not want my writing rough drafts read, heh, but I'd go ahead and just give you all my email passwords if you wanted them. Yes, you read that right. You could go ahead and have my email passwords upon request, and look over my shoulder (except when I'm writing creatively)
(How would she be able to distinguish that from when you?re writing your new internet hottie? Oh yeah, you?ll be using both hands. On the keyboard.) anytime you desired.
Diane, we had something unusually good and I threw it away. I never, never wanted to just throw you away, nor even hurt you.
(So what did you think lying to her, refusing to get a real job, and cheating on her would do? Or do you mean you never wanted her to find out about Carla?) I know what it means to be thrown away.
(Finally! You?re getting what you deserve. ?Cosmic Sam? is learning that what goes around comes around?you know, that whole ?karma? thing.) Yeah, I wished that you would get closer to me; but I didn't do what I could to bring you into doing that. You can blame it on me.
(Introducing ?Obvious Man!?) I wasn't all there.
(You?re still not all there!) I threw away our good life that fairly easily could have been even so much better.
I was so full of what was "right", I couldn't see what was good.
(No, you were full of crap, full of lies, full of yourself and your own desires.) I would have been there if I could. I could be there now.
(Only if she were stupid enough to fall for this self-aggrandizing, pouting, whiny desperate bid to get out of the homeless shelter, and she?s not.)
We were complementary to each other. Wildness and domesticity. I failed to appreciate that before. I was in the wrong.
(Yes, you were most definitely in the wrong, in so many ways.)
Oh, and I forgot some recent good news (yeah, I have some of that). I just got hired by Google for a telecommuting position. $15 per hour, lasting up to one year. I have to put in just a minimum of 20 hours per week, and of course more if I want.
(Well, $300/week minus taxes is better than what you were making before, but hardly enough to keep you in booze and lotion.) I can do that plus the freelancing stuff I relentlessly seek and find. wooooo! I could easily contribute plenty to the household while still getting my own personal finances together.
I've spent hours here sticking my neck out. It probably is all for nothing.
(It?s been keeping you off the street and out of the snow!) I know that, and I won't hold it against you at all if you still hate me and just write back, "fuck you, Sam". You likely even have a boyfriend now. But damn, I have to risk it.
(Hate it there in the homeless shelter?)
If you even just gave liberated and cosmic me a "test drive" for a little while, I know I could make you see what I mean.
(You mean you could fool her once again? Nope, not anymore. She?s finally pulled her head out of her ?armpit?!)
If this has all been for nought, well...I know that we had something strong, and I would love to repair it. We had some fantastic times, and that was in spite of my brokenness.
(Yup, you?re cracked, all right!)
I know you said that I could just forget you if I ever came out here for even a day. But you also said you just wanted me to be happy.
(Trust me, she never meant ?I want you to lie and cheat on me as long as it makes you happy.?) Well...you can make me happy, Diane. Yes you can. Can we
(Is that the royal ?we?? Or you and ?Cosmic Sam??) make our few changes, and begin anew with them? There'll never be anyone in our way again.
You were there for me, and you gave me all that you could. I gave you a lot--but not all that I could; certainly not.
(What did you give her again? No present that Xmas morning you both spent with your folks and she had to sit there with the whole family knowing you didn?t value her enough to even get her a card or make her a gift. You gave her heartache and more bills. I?m having a hard time finding the good here?) Now I can, because I have it all back to give. Someone else that I was there for, whom I thought would be all-there
(Is that a real word?) for me, never is there for me.
(Again, not a good time to whine about how Carla threw you away.) And now, all my patience is burned. You're the only one who doesn't sacrifice me on a stone altar of personal problems.
(Does that translate to ?You?re the only person who put up with my crap that long??)
What's done is done. This song here is over; it's all behind me.
By the way--my writing you is none of the Atomic Bitch's business at all. She will never, henceforth, know where I am,
(Will Carla care where you are? She threw you out, after all.) whether that's with you or not. She still has some of my clothes and my PC (I do trust her with them).
(Good thing you didn?t leave anything you wanted with Diane! Evil grin I know what she did with what you left behind!) I have already written her and told her that I cannot hold out any hope of her ever again, and I will never again for any reason contact her except one last time, which is to tell her where to send my things when I get to wherever it is I am going. If I come "home", I am going to have her send them to my dad's house for me to pick up later.
(Hasn?t Diane heard all this song and dance before? Perhaps when you wrote Carla the email telling her it was all over between you and that you were with Diane? And how is she to believe you now that she knows you sent Carla a previous email telling her not to believe anything you said in your next email, and that you were just writing it to get Diane off of your back?)
And I never told her that "secret thing" that you told me. Never.
(You know what? Diane can?t remember what that ?secret thing? is. It must not have been that important.)
I do love you, no matter what,
Sam
PS the phone number here in Hell is (920) 437-3766
(I really, really wanted to call this number. I wanted them to call you to the phone, tell you it was a woman, have you believe it was Diane calling to rescue you, then I wanted you to feel the disappointment when you realized it was only me calling to laugh at your silliness in actually believing that Diane would fall for your crap. I?m not that mean, though. Besides, that would be too much effort and you?re not worth it.)Enchantment falls around me and I know I cannot leave...
About 9 months into their relationship emails from an old girlfriend he was obsessed with appeared in his inbox. They corresponded for a while, but it was "just friends."
Sam told Diane that Carla was just angry because he'd broken it off, and that it was really over. Diane thought about it for a while. 
It took a week for the little weasel to find someone to pick him up (Did I mention he was carless as well as jobless?) but he was finally gone! Diane kept in contact with him through phone and email 
but got over him and met a REAL man and things are going so well now! 
So why do I want to kill him, you ask?
