Thursday, June 16, 2011

love letters, batch #2: profanities, the breakdown, and survival

Mon, 8 June 2004

Dear Rob,

No need to call.  I don't think you'll want to hear more complaints and rants anyway.  Last night I
went out drinking.  Got drunk enough to tell them that I have decided to try it again with you and am roomming with you next year and that I am asking them to understand and trust that I've spent a lot of time thinking about it and that it was not a rash decision. Long ass run-on. I realize the risk and am willing to take it, and I want them to support me. One said she does not support my decision, but she'd be there for me when I need.  The other went off the handle, accused me of making "rash" decisions (she specified that  just because you spend a lot of time thinking and debating and doubting does not necessarily mean that the decision is not "rash."  I guess now I know all the parameters of what constitutes a "rash decision," and I completely agree.)  She also said that she does not respect me, because I am weak, because I don't have strength in myself, because I am so dependent on a man.  And that no, she won't accept it, and that if i choose to room with you, then when i fall, when the decision turns out to be wrong, she will not be there, etc.  I was drunk, nauseated, pissed off, hurt, and every other goddamn peachy feelings, so i couldn't help it--i cried and hiccupped and wanted to get the fuck out of there.  This morning I drove the landlady to the airport, then cried some more when I got back.  Now I'm thinking, "Fuck it."  I want to give it another try with you; I believe that you do have something you genuinely want to offer, and that's all I need to go with.  I want to know what's it like to have a peaceful relationship, even if it means I have to adjust to a different kind of relationship with different rules.  So you see, no need to call me back, because I'm not crying anymore.

I also want you to know that this has put me in an awful mood and I dont really want to talk to anybody for a while. 

Remember Rob, the gate is always open; leave when you have to; change your mind whenver.  I would be fucking bored out of my mind if both of us have to think that we're stuck with each other just because we fuck.  I want you to be clear: I am only two dimensional.  No expectations of further depth, further strength, further whatever else, okay?  I can't handle being reminded that I am two dimensional like this all the time.  There's a lump in my throat and I am imploding into it.  Fucking A.


Fri, 18 June 2004

Dear Rob,

In Clarice Lispector's "Passion According to G.H.," there is a quote: "For now, the first timid pleasure
that I feel is being able to say that I have lost my fear of the ugly."  This quote is even better: "During
the time that I am writing and speaking, I'm going to have to pretend that someone is holding my hand. ...In the mean time I am inventing your presence...I shall invent your nameless presence and with you I shall start to die until I am able on my own not to exist, and then I'll let you go.  For now, I have you, and your warm, unknown life is my only internal organization, I who without your hand would feel unattached within the enormous space that I have discovered."

"I'm going to create what happened to me, only because living isn't tellable.  Living isn't livable."

Love you--you know that, don't you?  Tell me if you still love Christina and still want to live/be with
her, because that would be okay too.  Don't know why I have this damn nagging idea that you do.  I would still care for you--I don't think it's something that one can just cut out or delete. 

I'm slowly reading Fanon's biography, along with Said's memoir, Culler's book on structuralism, and
finally, finally, finally, Foucault's Archaeology of knowledge.  The Culler book goes very well with
Foucault's AK--at least the ideas in there are making connections for me.  Reading these two makes reading the two biographies very difficult. 

I'm going to munch on some bread then head out to the bookstore to read.  Still sick and nose running, but I have to get out of the house for a while--have been couped up in here for two whole days.

It's raining outside.  Perfect weather--so very me!!

Don't forget to miss me and love me!


Tues, 6 July 2004

hi rob,

i'm at home.  got back yesterday. this morning my brother took a butcher knife, cut down all the plants in the back yard, then drove somewhere with the knife with him.  my mom sat at home, scared into immobility.  she was thinking that he was gonna kill someone with that knife.  she asked me if i know how we could get him into a ward.  i said not unless we can prove that he's a threat to himself or others.  fuck.  i guess let's wait until he kills someone, or chop their arms off.  then he came home,
eyes all red and bleary like he'd been crying for hi life.  relief to my mom--no sign of blood.  my dad
asked me in hushed tones if i could go see the nun at the local budhist temple and ask her if she knows of any ancient indian way of curing madness, since she was in india studying for her phd in budhology.

Wed, 7 July 2004

hi rob,

my brother's in the hospital.  inpatient treatment.  he talked and cried so much while we were waiting for the doctor.  i'm going back to the hospital in a little while to drop off his clothes and things.  i'm
tired.  warning: i may change plans about next year.  i want to save money, so maybe i'll do the work
exchange thing.  if i get my thesis in at the end of this summer, then i could do some part time job in the fall and maybe full time in the spring.  lots of possible plans are going through my head right now, with strong preference for quitting school and looking for a job.

anyway, gotta go.  talk to you later.


Thur, 8 July 2004

hi rob,

i'm sorry.  thanks for understanding.  i have headaches.  my mom cries all the time.  i have been
driving my parents to see my brother for the past two days, and it's been very hard.  i was with him when they took him to the hospital, and i was hardly able to keep calm.  now everything reminds my parents of my little brother.  he tells us and the doctor that he wants to try to fight the voices himself, but they're trying to convince him to take medicine instead.  my parents are so upset...they don't like the restrictions of the hospital (makes them think he's in prison) and wants to bring him home.  they're also freaking out because they'll be in vn for a month.  i told them that i'd come visit him everyday while they're away, but that doesn't seem to help any.  don't know, maybe they're gonna cancel that trip.

i'm trying to think structurally...i don't know, grab onto something stable.  my mom is a huge believer in the vnese traditions of spirits and feng shui and stuff, which is great thinking material.  for ex: we're going to have to throw away my brother's bed and repaint his room.  only my parents or two of my brothers (two specific brothers) can do this, for reasons that she won't tell us until it's done.  she also said that a couple of days before he went to the hospital, she saw his "aura" changed into something very strange.  she also saw some kind of vase that he had in his room, very "dark" and "foreboding" looking, so she took it out and smashed it.  she would tell me all these fun things in between sobs. 

i think my mom's reactions are very typical of the southern colloquial culture.  there's certainly a lot
of fun materials in this particular stream, and certainly influenced by other southeast asian

my dad told me earlier today (after going in to see my brother and seeing how strictly guarded the place is) that the reason the place has security all over the place is not to ensure the safety of the patients but to ensure order for the outside world.  and he's never read foucault.

i've been playing billards on the computer a lot.  no reading at all. 

it's good to hear you are doing well and reading and writing and working hard on your persian and stuff. 

my whole jaw is hurting..i have a habit of crunching my teeth together under extreme conditions.  now i have to go prop my mouth open.

don't worry, i'm doing well.  i just need to know that you're thinking about me and still want to be with me and i'll be good.


Fri, 30 July 2004

you fucking me over again, rob?  will you please get the fuck off your ego and be there when i need you, you fucking selfish asshole?  you need to stop screwing me with these irritating little hints.  you've already used them once, no need to use them again.


Sun 5 September 2004

dear rob,

thanks for your email.  i'm healthy.  i have gotten a new place in the hills, and i like it much.  it's
quiet and peaceful.  and it's mine.  i have your things.  i'm in hiding at the moment, but i can box
them and leave the box in the office for you on tuesday. 

k, bye.


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