dear_friend the swinger of birches last night i made like eight different calls trying to find someone to talk to from far away and not once did i end up getting the person i wanted to talk to. so i was subjected to leaving messages on cell phones and answering machines. after an hour of disappointment and writing to myself, someone called, and i felt good. but i still miss andy. 021104 ... silentbob do you know what "masturbation" is? I think you probably do because you are older than me. But just in case, I will tell you. Masturbation when you rub your genitals until you have an orgasm. Wow! I thought in those movies and television shows when they talk about having a coffee break that they should have a masturbation break. But then again, I think this would decrease productivity. 021105 ... blue star I love Charlie. I want him to write to me. 021105 ... yours dustin i know your name, it is a nice name, common but nice. a strong name that you can build traditional last names on. i address you friend, because if i use your first name, it might get too personal, and although i'm sure you've never had anyone do something this personal, i want you to know what its like. In Massachusetts i'm sure things are different. in Whatever Beach, California, i'm sure things are very different. In Rural Town, Iowa, things are the same. Nonetheless, don't associate the people you meet with the places there from, for no matter the geography, even as the names and faces change, the people do not. Is you hair long or short? i think that your blonde hair is beautiful as is your olive skin tone. i know your name and that is enough. because i know you are a friend, i know you will listen. 021202 ... icewater sometimes I worry that the grass really is greener in the other side, and I'm justified in wanting you more than him. 021202 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, I am lonely tonight. It’s not a good kind of lonely, it’s the sudden kind of lonely that hits you right when everything is looking up. It’s the kind of lonely when you listen to songs with pianos and violins. When you begin writing because you think that the words will give you some kind of consolement. But I’m not sure if it’s working tonight. Andy is home now. I thought you might want to know. I want more. I feel much like I’m standing on the edge not knowing what is to happen next. There is a lot I still don’t know about and the world seems to go on around me and I’m still lost. Then I realize that at least I can admit I’m lost and I can stop and ask for directions while everyone else walks around lost but acting as if they know exactly where they are going and what they are doing. Friend, honestly, when I find out what I want I think it will be an epiphany and I think the clouds will part and the sun will shine through and some cheesy opera music will play in the background, an oscar winning scene. Well I will tell you that on Saturday night while I was in Algona, I kept my eyes open as I always do when I think that Andy might be home. I pay close attention to cars and drivers which is funny considering the fact that I drove past him without even noticing him. About half an hour later my timing was perfect. Just as I was pulling out of the gas station I saw him pulling out of the car wash. I wasn’t completely sure if it was him, but you know what, by that point I was so full of hope that I took a chance and followed the car. And as my intuition is generally so good, it was in fact Andy. I followed him back to his house and hopped out of the car and ran up to him. It’s a funny run though, because I feel like I should be in one of those movie scenes where the boy and the girl run up to each other on the beach or in the tall grass. I feel exactly like the girl in those scenes. I feel giddy and foolish and I really don’t care and then I realize that I’m not that girl and that Andy is not that boy and that I’m me and Andy is Andy. And so I slow down and try to control myself from jumping on him and knocking him down and kissing him and rolling around in the grass. And so what’s left is me with a big goofy smile and my eyes beaming from excitement and a funny swagger because I’m trying to act cool and be calm. And I just don’t even do anything and I feel silly because I feel like I should be doing something like hugging him or shaking his hand. But I don’t do any of those things. It doesn’t make me sad, it just makes me feel awkward. I suppose I regret it. The next time I feel impelled to do something, I will do it, Friend, I will do it. I won’t be ashamed because you know what, it isn’t wrong for friends to hug or display there affection. I don’t know what to do with my hands though. When I talk to Andy I feel like John Samson in the song "Pamphleteer" when he sings "but why do I still see you in every mirrored window, in all that I could never overcome, how I don’t know what I should do with my hands when I talk to you. How you don’t know where you should look, so you look at my hands, how movements rise and then dissolve melted by our shallow breath. So help me with this barricade of no surrender no defeat." Wow. I had to sing to myself to remember that. I never really felt the meaning of those words until just now because that’s exactly how I feel. Those words are so beautiful the song is the one pure language that everyone can relate to. So when I don’t know what to do with my hands, I put them on the back of my head and Andy puts his in his pockets and I look around trying to keep my eyes from meeting his and he looks at me. He looks at me. And when our eyes meet I feel absolutely helpless because I don’t know if I should look into them. They are so blue, the kind of blue you can’t run from and you can’t hide from. Brown eyes are so much easier to look into, maybe that’s why he looks at me. His hair is short now, like mine. It was long when he came back for fall break. He also wears Birkenstock clogs, like mine, except his are a nice suede and mine are just wool. He said he wondered if I was going to follow him. I should have told him I wouldn’t have passed it up. He saw me though, the first time when I passed him and I didn’t see him. That makes me feel good. He saw me. Anyway, Friend, I will tell you that rumor is spreading fast because people are talking and they don’t even know what they are talking about but they are guessing just as good as me and they are headed in the same direction as I was, and this time Friend, I’m going to see to it that Andy doesn’t run. I’m going to see that he stands up and faces it and accepts it. And I’m going to be behind him. Yours always, Dustin. 021217 ... belly fire I don't really think she knows how much she means to me. My most dear friend. Losing her - that I will never recover from. 021218 ... SuicidalAngel Dear friend - why do you ignore my withdrawn gaze? I would do whatever it takes to bring you up. When all you do is bring me down? Why do I feel the need to try so hard? Do I have such a fear of losing you? Do you think I'm just using you? Do you even notice? Do you even care? Are you so wrapped up in your life, that I am only an acessory? Do I sound concieted? Why do you blame me? Because it's so easy? When I voice my opinion and you disagree. I'm always wrong, you're always right and I just agree to defer a fight. Am I wasting my time? Because you don't care? Because you don't notice that I'm even there? 021219 ... the swinger of birches isaiah says, "i saw andy" i say, "when" he says, "tuesday night in the weight room" i say "oh" he says, "why don't you lift weights" i say "because i don't have an ego" he gave me a speech about masculinity. i ignored him and didn't bother to show him my bicep even though its healthy looking. and then i thought of andy in sweat pants and a black t-shirt with his wavy hair covering his forehead and framing his cheekbones and i remembered that is was short and spikey and no longer did that. everyone is talking, friend, which is fine with me, but honestly i don't think andy could handle that if he knew. i will see him tomorrow, when he comes to school in the morning and i will give him his cd and ask if he's going to the basketball game against our cross-town rivals, and then if says he is, i will ask if he wants to meet me there. and then i believe he will look me in the eyes the way he does and say yes. and when he looks me in the eyes i can't move or move quick enough not to get caught like a fox in a trap. once someone told me a story about a fox that got caught in a trap and they said that the fox gnawed its leg off. i don't know if i would gnaw my heart off if i got caught in andy's eyes. i think if i did i would save myself alot of pain. at least more pain than disconnecting my heart. the cd is very good. it's a mix of songs and i call it "crack the windows and drive me home" and i'm putting a poem in it. i will hide it between the cover and the track listing. the poem is called "happy." and on the cover there is a cut out from a sample of Clinques happy for men in bright orange. i want him to hear song 19 "i'm sorry i'm leaving" by saves the day. the rest are nice too, but i would like to think of myself singing that song to him the first time he hears it. that would be special. if i ever was more confused it would be now. i want honesty. shakespeare said that the chase was better, but this hunt has been prolonged and my hounds are tired and my horses need water. have a lovely christmas. mine will not be blue. i will listen to bjork's rendition of "someone in love" which was orignally sung by frank sinatra and i will drink eggnog and eat sugar cookies. i will escape from earth just a little while. 021219 ... bethany if you dont mind i'd like to sit here by your side where we can gaze up at the stars and be together now and forever for its as plain as anyone can see we're simply meant to be 021220 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, I’m not sure if this is what confusion feels like, but maybe it is. There seem to be so many shades of uncertainty that I’m beginning to wonder what the raw emotion is. Today was a day of chase. I began in hope and elation. This morning I awoke at five hoping to tear down the next four hours so that I could see Andy and talk about things, about us. To talk and for the first time be completely, or partly honest. I drove to school listening to Weezer and sang along. I parked my car and walked in with my chin high. I walked past Andy’s car. My heart skipped along. I floated into school. The thought sent me soaring, that here and now I was going to do something. I was going to take things into my hands and I had a feeling of complete control. From a distance I saw him down the hallway as I walked to my locker and it all crumbled quickly. My confidence escaped and I felt indignant. I thought he should find me because he said would be there. He left. He didn’t say a word. My morning crashed but by afternoon I had found the will to be apathetic. I believed that I should have backed off. So I did. And for the rest of school day I was careless. As I was walking with Julie out to her car, the sky was gray and damp. The cold was colder because of the moisture and the snowflakes blew icy and sharp, each one a knife to any exposed flesh. And yet I was happy. I was happy that the weather had finally changed to a darker shade of melancholy. I spotted Andy’s car and on whim I rushed Julie with me inside. “C’mon I have to find him, I just want to see if I can.” Julie laughed and hurried in. I spotted him right off, and I had passed him in his orange shorts and navy sweatshirt. He wore his glasses, the ones that magnify his eyes and make him look like a nerd. I was awkward. And I walked around him like he was a leper, in a great circle of distance until he said hi. And I said hi back and told him about my cd I had made for him and he came with me to my locker. It was short and he seemed as if he wanted to brush me off quickly so that he could go lift weights. “I’m trying to make my biceps smaller.” I feel like Patrick, Friend, in the book “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. I feel hesitated. I’m not sure if I’m justified in feeling that way, but I do. He gave me a thumb’s up and a smile when I said I’d see him at the game. And I tried not to smile or act too happy but I think he could tell. So Julie and I raced back out into the parking lot and I jumped up in the air and gave her a hug and punched the snowflakes and invisible punching bags because I was so happy. I felt like a little boy on the brink of something great, like a soda or an ice cream cone. My stomach twisted up and jumped and tickled as if it had pop rocks in it. “Do you think there’s something there?” Julie says, “Oh yeah, I just think he’s trying to play hard to get.” I say, “Serious, do you think there is some chemistry?” She says, “Oh yeah.” Silence. Julie laughs and says, “That is exciting.” I look at her and smile, “Very exciting.” I felt like a firecracker ready to explode with a giant bang. I rushed down another five hours and went to the basketball game against our cross town rivals. I spotted Andy in the bleachers sitting next to Noah and I felt a surge of apprehension. I spotted Julie and waved, gesturing her to come to me. She did and I asked if she’s had any room where she was sitting. She said there wasn’t but suggested that we could make some. We moved to make room, and the boys were pissed because Christian wouldn’t have any place to sit when he came back. So Julie and I moved up a row. “I think Andy is up higher in the bleachers.” “No, he’s right over there,” and I pointed him out, “I spotted him when I first came in” By then it was half time and Andy went to get something to eat. Julie said I should talk to him before he went back up. I saw him walking back, and butterflies erupted from a small volcano that formed in my stomach. I didn’t talk to him, instead, I looked over at him. He looked at me. I turned my head. He knew where I was sitting. He tried not to make it too obvious. He looked again. I looked back this time. I waved stand-offishly. He waved back and smiled, standing up to yell, “The cd was AWESOME!” I pretended not to hear, “What?!” “The cd was AWESOME!” “I know, I’m glad you like it.” Silence, staring. “Is there any room up there?” I yell. “NO! It’s tight!” “Okay! Find me after the game,” I reply. “Alright” and he smiles and nods. The game was a rush and we ended up losing but it was great to watch. We lost by three points and I found myself slowly becoming more comfortable with cheering towards the end. In front of Julie and me, Christian and Bob were screaming like fools and booing and cheering. There intonation became like a chant and I slowly found my voice and used it. After the buzzer rang, Mike Sabin lay curled on the floor with his face prostrated in his hands. The Garrigan crowd rushed up to their boys, wildly cheering. Algona was withheld and disappointed. The gym emptied like water from a glass. I caught up to Andy, but Julie and I were nonchalant about it. She gave me room, just enough though so that she could listen. “Hey, Dustin.” “Hey.” “How are you?” “I’m okay, you?” We used stupid questions, I think, because neither one of us is comfortable being real and talking deep with all these people, and when we can’t be real or honest or talk deep then we don’t know what to say. “What are you doing tonight,” he asked. “Not much, you?” “I’m probably going home, I’ve got work in the morning.” He talked about how shitty his job was but that the pay was good. I was at a loss for words. He looked around nervously and said, “Well, Dustin, have a good weekend,” and squeezed my arm gently. I felt suddenly mixed. I wanted so much more and he just walked away. I wanted to say, “Let’s get coffee or go to your place.” I wanted to say, “Andy why can’t you just be honest with me?” or “When can we get together and talk.” Or “Can I please get your cell number?” and didn’t. And he disappeared into the crowd and I did too. Julie turned to me and asked, “Did you just blow him off?” I wasn’t sure if it was he or I who had gotten blown off. “Yeah,” I said somewhat dumfounded. “Don’t worry, he’s just playing hard to get. I think there were too many people for him.” Somehow Julie always reassured me and it made me feel good, like her words were truth. So I left. And I drove home in the murmur of my thoughts and I followed Andy a block or two behind. And I watched his headlights leave me behind as he went straight and I turned. And I felt the emptiness inhabit me wishing I had done more. Wishing that I had accomplished more than what had just transpired. Friend, I if I had one wish, it would be to know how Andy felt in the honesty of his heart, in the honesty of his solitude, his honesty in thoughts when no one was around to hear him thinking or feeling. I’m going to go to sleep now Friend, before I begin to cry. I think I’ll pretend that Andy is beside me. Goodnight. 021221 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, I don’t believe that I have told you about Agnes. Agnes is a client of my mother’s business. My mom is assistant to the owner of the business. It deals with in home health services and only rich people can afford it. Anyway, my mom needed someone to deliver meals on the weekends, just over the noon hour because meals on wheels doesn’t deliver on the weekends. So I got the job and I get paid well. Agnes is probably about 78 and smokes like a French prostitute in a café. She buys Marlboro red 100’s and has about three of them in ten to fifteen minutes. Her chain smoking is character as are her thick glasses and messy hair. Whenever I visit and drop the meals off she is always wearing a white paisley shirt with a pan collar and a pair of fuchsia leggings. Today as I picked up her meal I felt as gray as the sky. I didn’t sing to the cd that was playing like I usually do. Instead I just sat and stared at some imaginary point on the road ahead and I didn’t feel anything. At most I felt vacant. I didn’t feel full of happiness or anger or sorrow. I felt empty, completely out of emotion. It was not a good feeling because I felt like crying. Well Friend, it is funny how fast your mood can change. I drove through the country on a gravel road catching site of an abandoned school house, its paint chipping and the wood looking as gray and wind beaten as the cloudless sky and I continued to feel empty. I drove past a run down farmhouse where in the southern pasture a lazy crick that carved through the dried earth, where the cows munched contently on the yellowed grass and their dark black coats shot against the scenery like bullet holes. I drove over the bridge and up the hill to Agnes’s. I got her mail and drove up the long driveway in silence. I could see her waiting in the window. When I opened the door, I was careful and cheerful, because I had to change my mood because she needed to feel better than I did. She quickly gave me a hug and said, “It’s a good thing your girlfriend isn’t here or she wouldn’t let me do this.” And I laughed. Agnes believes that I have five girlfriends. I told her this and in a way I wasn’t lying. But I thought of Andy when she said that. I hugged her back and put my arm over her curving back. She was shorter and more fragile than I was. I felt like a sturdy frame against her aged body. But the embrace was genuine. You see, Friend, I really do like Agnes. I really do like making her feel good and complimenting her on her nails when they are done or telling her that she looks fifty instead of the 78 that she is. I like to tell her that I don’t see her wrinkled neck but only her eyes that sprout like daisies behind her thick glasses, which have a tendency to magnify everything. Lyle, her husband, who has Alzheimer’s quickly reported to the table from his recliner seeing the food that I brought and their little black dog Tinkerbell ran circles and barked excitedly. And for that moment I felt alive. I felt like I was doing the right thing and my life had a purpose. I initialed the checklist that we are supposed to do for work and checked Lyle’s pill box and chewed the fat with Agnes for awhile. She said she wanted me to surprise her with submarines tomorrow. She said to pick out whatever kind I thought would be the biggest surprise. So I’m going to get her a chicken teriyaki sandwhich and I will get Lyle a Philly steak and cheese one. I left after playing with Tink and gave her a good scratching under the chin where she likes to be scratched. When I got in the car, I noticed Agnes’s walker in front of the garage with the fly swatter shoved between the joints of two of it’s metal frames. I had to laugh to myself at the thought of Agnes swatting flys on a sticky summer day. I pulled out and noticed the ax lying by the burn barrel where two logs protruded out with fire-brazed trunks. On the ground next to it lay another log halfway chopped through. Again I had to laugh because this time I remembered when Agnes told my mother she was going to finish chopping the logs after lunch. My mother kindly suggested that Agnes watch some television or do a crossword. Agnes agreed. And right then it all made sense. Everything in my life made perfect sense. I can’t say that the feeling lasted. But it made perfect sense who I was, what I was doing, what I should do, who I should become. The world made perfect sense. My family made perfect sense. The kids at school made perfect sense. But most importantly, Andy made perfect sense. I will have to thank Agnes tomorrow when I take her meal. She made everything make perfect sense. What made sense about Andy and me is well, I can’t really explain it. It was more of a feeling. But I’ll try. I’m the one who drives the funny car and who works hard and barely scrapes by and who has potential but because I don’t have money deprive myself of opportunities. I am the one who takes the time to notice and enjoy life and I am happy. I take care of people like Agnes and hold on to sentimentality and am not one bit ashamed because of it. I’m okay with being affectionate and personal. But Andy is the one who thinks he is happy. He is the one who has opportunities and is going to be a doctor and who drives a nice car and who will be “something” someday. And he is the one who washes his father’s tractors for ten dollars and hour so that he can afford the big city when he goes back to school. And he is the one thinks he’s got everything figured out except that one small thing. And that one small thing is me. And so he’s not really happy because he leads a life that is expected of him. And he doesn’t take the time like I do, or hold on to sentimentality like I do, or be affectionate or personal when he feels it. And I thought, “Of all the good things I could do, it would be to make him happy.” I imagined us in his car at night on the outskirts of Algona racing out into the country with the music soft and our silence invading our space. I imagined myself looking at him and touching his hand gently so that he would look at me. I imagined holding his hand and saying, “I can make you happy if you just let me. Please give me a chance. You won’t regret it.” So Friend, I do regret holding back last night. I regret every minute of it. If the world were to hold back and not take any risks, who knows where we would be. Who knows if anyone would accomplish anything or make any progress? I realized, Friend, that in that moment of perfect sense I cannot hold back, just like I don’t hold back with Agnes or my mother or my brothers or my thoughts, I can’t hold back with Andy. I have to be honest. I will start. Wish me luck. 021221 ... frAnk and so i wish you luck. thanks for your honesty. this writing is redblather at its finest. 021221 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, I haven’t much to say other than that today is the day before Christmas and that five year olds are feeling like they could burst because their excitement is out of control. Had I been about twelve years younger, I may have felt the same but for some reason the landscape is forlorn and solemn. I got my permanent driver’s license today, if that is reason for rejoicing. It means that I no longer have a curfew for driving. Other than that, not much has changed. My signature looks nicer on the card, but my picture is goofier than ever. I’m smiling like a loon and my chin is tipped back so I look cocky. It’s a funny picture and a great looking mug shot. My family went and saw a movie, but I decided not to go with them. It was the latest Disney flick and as far as I can see, all those Disney movies are sensational and about the same with sensational and unbelievable plots. They all become boring because their heroes are the same. So I drove down Main Street and I saw that Julie was working at Solbach’s Pharmacy and Gift Store. It wasn’t busy so I went in to say hi. We walked around the store and talked about the last few days since we hadn’t seen each other. She opened gifts yesterday and got a lot of cooking utensils for next year when she is on her own. It’s a scary thought to be on your own and Julie will be in Minneapolis learning how to cut hair. Her parents will be in Rochester, but still, the newness of the environment will be scary and exciting all at the same time. I feel so happy for Julie. She is such a great girl and she deserves the world. Anyway, she and Nick are back together. If I hadn’t told you, they broke up for about two weeks, but as she says now, “Things are just like old times.” She gave me a half-hearted grin when she said that and I could taste the sarcasm in her voice. She’s got such an old lady way of joking. We also talked about Andy. She asked if I got him anything for Christmas. Now Friend, I had thought about getting him something, but I didn’t know if it would be pushing. Plus I didn’t want him to feel guilty because I’m more than sure that he didn’t get me anything. Plus, plus, I’ve given him two cd’s in the last two months and I feel that that is enough. So I asked her if the mix cd with the collage cut-out cover and the nice track listing counted. She asked if it was wrapped. I said that it wasn’t. Then she said, “It doesn’t count.” So we walked around Solbach’s looking for a gift. We found some puzzles, the wooden brain teaser kind with metal loops. Julie thought it would make a good gift. I agreed. We also found a hot pink Duncan yo-yo and I thought it was nice too. But we didn’t think that it would be a suitable Christmas gift. We found those key chains that have your names on them. They had Andrew scripted on brushed metal with a little heart at the bottom for a picture. Julie and I laughed. She said he’d freak if I got him this. I agreed. I couldn’t believe though that they didn’t have my name. I mean they had Dylan, and Destiny, and Dakota and all these funny Dawson Creek kind of names, but they didn’t have Dustin. Dustin is such a popular sturdy name, it should have been illegal not to have it. Anyway we kept looking and we found one of those cd holders that you attach to your visor, it would make a nice gift, but it seemed too ordinary. We also found condoms, which made us both laugh. Julie whispered, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” And I whispered back, “You need lubrication.” And we laughed. So we also found some cheesy old lady looking things and grandma-ish looking picture frames, but they just didn’t do the trick. We went and looked at cards and found some really funny ones. There was this one of a lady being abducted by aliens and it said on the front, “I once heard a story about a lady from Tulsa who got abducted by aliens and they did all sorts of weird sexual experiments on her.” And on the inside it said, “When’s that trip to Tulsa.” We cracked up. There was also this one that looked pretty cheesy by the saying on the outside, which said, “I am the rose and you are the water on my petals in the early morning.” Which was then followed by, “Dew me.” on the inside. It was great to read cards with Julie; we both are so immature at times. Well I didn’t leave with anything. But I did find a card I may go back and get with these two fat girls in cow outfits, and inside it talked about their friendship influencing their bad outfit choices. Andy and I can relate, except our outfits are nice, and anyway he’s the one who is always getting something after I do. So what I think would be nice is to get him a pair of mittens with the flip-back flaps like mine and the finger holes, that way he can dial the phone or light a cigar (because he likes after dinner cigars) or something like that. And also his hands will stay warm in the winter. Well friend, I’m going to take a nap now. It’s snowing; I hope that it stays. Yours, Dustin. P.S.: sorry I just have to tell you this other card. It said, “Sometimes I just have to call you to hear your voice.” and then the inside read, “It also helps to think of you naked.” 021227 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, Today is Christmas, but it didn’t snow and so all those people hoping for a white Christmas didn’t get it. It doesn’t make me sad; I really don’t even celebrate the holiday as it is. Tonight my stepfather’s parents are coming over to have dinner with us. My mom put a Turkey in the oven around six this morning and I could smell it ever since. The house is warm and hectic and I can expect nothing lesson a holiday when everyone has the time off and it’s too cold to go outside to do anything and so we are all crammed up inside. Anyway, my brothers and sister are running up and down the stairs like mad men and racing around making messes. My mom and I did dishes and talked in her room while we sorted through some junk in the closet. My sister fell off my mom’s bed and we all laughed. This is the kind of morning it has been. The kind of morning when everybody is too crazy or tired to care and so we all do goofy things and act ridiculous to entertain ourselves. It’s nice, you know, to just not care for once, to just act like fools. Last night I had the best sleep. It was the kind when you are so warm and comfortable that you take up the entire bed and sprawl out and roll around and hide your head under the pillow. It was so nice. I haven’t had a night of sleep quite like that. My wisdom teeth are coming in. I discovered them last night in the mirror. I don’t think there will be enough room so I’ll have to get them removed which scares me because the dentist makes me uneasy and nervous. I had a dream about getting them pulled and the dentist was crazy and was going to do something terrible to me. I think it will be hell when I get them pulled. I’m a little scared. Anyway that terrible dream was followed by one with Andy. This is actually only the second time I’ve ever dreamt about Andy. Both dreams had Erika in them. In the first dream, Erika and Andy got back together and I was very jealous because I wanted Andy. They were sitting in the backseat of a car in a delicious fall afternoon with the sun shining in on them making them look gorgeous and I was so angry it scared me. But this dream was completely opposite. We were at Erika’s house doing something and Andy showed up and he was wearing the same exact outfit as I was, a black ribbed turtleneck sweater with gap mustard khaki’s, except I thought he looked ten times better than I did. We were upstairs in this room which required us to descend a flight of stairs in order to leave. Everything happened so fast that I really don’t remember what was said, I just remember leaving the room in an emotional huff because I was mad at Andy and he chased after me down the stairs and caught up to me and he said I looked really good. He gave me one of those looks, the kind when he’s really looking into me and for the first time, I looked back whole-heartedly. We started kissing on the stairs for a long time. The funny thing is I could feel it in real life as if it were actually happening and I grabbed his butt. It is true though, what Jen said about the way that some guys kiss, like they are trying to swallow your head. That’s exactly what it felt like and very rough. But I liked it. I know it appears as if I’m infatuated with Andy and the truth being is that maybe I am. It’s not that I try to be, it just happens because the whole entire situation seems too good to be true and then when I stop and think about it, maybe it is too good to be true. I mean maybe Andy is just being nice, and maybe all he wants is to be friends. And maybe his motives are true. But if that was all true, why does it feel like more? Why does it feel like we aren’t being honest and I can’t look him in the eye? Why does it feel like we just can’t let go of little barriers? I can only shrug my shoulders because I’m just as misinformed as everyone else. I did thank Agnes for making the world make perfect sense. She smiled and gave me a hug and then shrugged her shoulders. Her husband Lyle is getting worse by the day. I admire that woman’s sanity. He asks her questions like what he should be doing or how to eat a donut or why he should sit and eat lunch or if he can sit in his recliner. To think that she is all alone with him in that little house, of course I mean, she does have the people that come and help her, but I think that her social life is reduced to smoking Marlboros and drinking coffee. It’s a sad thing, Friend, so I felt that she needed to know that she made my life make perfect sense for that moment, just so that she could feel like she accomplished something. Well anyway, Chad, this guy that I’ve been hanging out with lately, went with me to Mason City last Sunday. Chad doesn’t have many friends and I feel sorry for him. Not anymore. I feel like I’m getting closer to him, more on the same level of friendship. It’s not a deep friendship yet, but it could be. Chad was in the hospital once because he was suicidal and he likes to talk to people on the internet and play with his computer. The truth is, he knows a lot about computers. We download music together and talk about music and mixing it, and almost everything that has to deal with music. I lent him some cd’s so he could make copies for himself. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to take him to Mason City to go to this great cd store called CDGB’s. His dad only gave him six dollars for the day so we ate at McDonald’s. He didn’t have enough to buy anything at the music store so instead we went to the mall and he bought a necklace. I lent him the dollar’s difference that he didn’t have. There was a live band playing called Who Cares and I told Chad they called themselves that so they could offer a response when people told them they sucked. We laughed because they were totally rotten. He said he had never seen a live band before. I couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even seen one at the fair. Chad hasn’t seen or done a lot of things, but there are also a lot of things that he has seen and done. Some people wouldn’t take the time to get to know him because they would think that he is stupid or nerdy. I still don’t even know him that well, but nonetheless, he is worth getting to know because he is not stupid or nerdy. He writes poetry. It’s not like mine because it rhymes but it is good. The trick is he doesn’t exhaust the rhyme scheme because he avoids a scheme completely. He is a very good writer and is very intelligent. I think that getting to know Chad makes me want to be a better person because Chad has been through a lot of problems and he’s felt a lot of heartache and he’s had better reasons than I have had. And yet I think he’s happy. Inside I think he’s happy. He told me if I was ever feeling down to read Psalm 91 in the Bible. He said that it would immediately make me feel ten times better. And I have not forgotten that since. I haven’t felt bad enough to read it, but when I do, I will make sure that I read it. 021227 ... the swinger of birches i work today at four. again. i delivered the meal to agnes around one. i was hoping andy would email me. he didn't. anyway i will tell you about the woman i have to close with tonight. her name is sheri. when i first started working at ampride, sheri hated me. but the truth is sheri hates everyone when they first start working. its just sometimes she doesn't stop hating you even after you've graduated from training. well, luckily i was not one of these people. i still don't enjoy closing with her, but nonetheless, i can tolerate it. in fact, i think sheri kind of likes me. sheri is fifty. she lives on a farm and her husband and two sons believe that she is shit. now when i first started, i believed sheri was shit too. she was just plain rude and her fingernails were long and her hair was curly and she was strange. but the more i've gotten to know sheri, i know that she deserves more than what most are willing to give her. there are lots of stories about sheri. they are all quite believable, whether they are rumor or not. the most agreeable story is that her husband beats her. now friend, i don't believe it's right to automatically give sympathy for things like this, but how can you not. i mean its like those people who give sympathy for someone who is retarded or black and then they treat that person differently than if they were normal. i don't believe in doing that. because i believe everyone is human and everyone should be treated as they treat others. every night sheri's husband ed calls and asks, "is sheri handy?" and he has a very cordial voice. I used to just hand the phone over to her. but ever since getting to know sheri, i try to make excuses like she took some money to the bank or she's stocking the cooler or waiting on a customer. ed is just a voice and a bunch of stories to me. i'm not sure who i believe. the other day someone put a domestic abuse poster in the bathroom with pull tab hotline numbers. when i was cleaning the restroom i noticed that one of them was missing. i know very well who took that pull tab. whenever i work with sheri we make fun of the manager and complain about how stupid our assistant manger carol is. we make fun of customers after they leave. it sounds like we are mean, but we are really not. its all in fun. i mean i don't feel guilty doing it, and that says a lot. trust me. i am very trustworthy. that's why so many girls confide in me. anyway. i think sheri is becoming a better person. a more well rounded and freindly person. someday, when i have the money, i will give her a trip to hawaii, alone, because her family is so mean. she said that is the one place she would love to go to. i think she deserves it. 021228 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, I called Natalie yesterday. It took a few tries. I called her house first and I got Ray, her dad. We talked about five minutes because it’s always good catching up with him. Ray is like my second father. He has a nice Hispanic accent. He always talks to me like he is giving me a pep talk. I think I like this about my best friend’s dad, as if everything he has to say is urgent. He is a good-hearted man who wants the best for everyone in this world. We talked about the family and how Natalie was doing. He told me how Natalie had been very depressed lately. He blamed it on the medication. But I knew it was more than the medication. I hadn’t talked to Natalie since she was in the hospital—that was about three or four weeks ago. But I knew enough to know that after such a serious accident, it would be more than the medication making her depressed. I knew it would be the starkness of reality that would leave her sleepwalking. So I called her cell and when she said, “Hello,” I answered the way I always do, “Hello, Sunshine.” I can see Natalie’s expression every time. I can see her face searching for the right voice and name, trying to put them together. I can hear it in the hesitation just before she says, “Hey!” Even though she knew it was me and I could sense her surprise, it was not the same emphatic “Hey!” that I usually get. It was suppressed and withdrawn. It was uncertain and weary. I could feel the pause and the barrier holding her back. She has put up a wall around everything, Friend. The sobriety of such a traumatic experience has left her scorned and it hurts to see someone you love hurting. Things were slow at first. We had to catch up, but it didn’t flow as it naturally did. It was a different girl on the other end of the phone line. It was a girl who had lost all will and motivation to keep living. I had to work the conversation because it was littered with strange silences and awkward pauses. In the background I could hear Daniel, her cousin, fooling around. His laugh was boisterous and boyish. I missed him. I asked Natalie how everyone was doing, she wanted me to talk to Daniel or Amy. Ray warned me that she didn’t like to talk on the phone. I wasn’t going to let her get away so I said, “No I called to talk to you.” She grunted a response. I felt like dying because I was choking so hard on her bitterness. It was hard to break the ice. I felt like I was trying to hack through a foot of it with a toothpick. We were interrupted by someone at the door. It was my door. I opened it to see the neighbor boy with a gift basket as a thank you for some peanut butter he borrowed a week ago so his mother could make peanut butter cookies. Natalie asked who it was. I told her. She said, “See, I told Daniel he should make this old man cookies because the old man helped him out with some gardening or something. And Daniel just asked why. You should do things for others.” When she said that friend, the old Natalie that I knew, came back. It was the girl that I knew before she moved out to Clear Lake, down by the ocean and Galveston, before entering suburbia and parties, the girl I knew before becoming totally wrapped up and warped in her social life. I felt her, the real girl. I told her to put Daniel on the phone so I could tell him to make the man some cookies. I didn’t introduce myself, I just said, “Daniel, have you made those cookies yet.” There was a long silence because I knew he was confused as to who was talking, and then all of a sudden the light bulb went on and he was excited. We talked about how the old man blew leaves when Daniel was trying to rake them. And we talked about music and movies. We talked about prep school and college. We talked about his future and mine. It was nice to catch up. IN the background I could hear Shawn and Natalie fighting. Shawn has been Natalie’s boyfriend on and off for about three years. I respect Shawn, but sometimes he makes me very upset when he hurts Natalie. He knows karate so I can’t beat him up. Otherwise I’d make an attempt to. Usually I can talk him into being better. Like one time after they broke up and Shawn was getting drunk, I talked him out of it and made him realize that he could only grow from the experience. I’m generally there to pick up the pieces because I don’t want Natalie to be hurt. Its not the most glamorous job, but I like it, because I love Natalie and the thought of her hurting makes me hurt. So I told Daniel to put Natalie on the phone. I asked her what was going on. She told me that Shawn and her were fighting. Incidentally it had been going on for a week straight. She was crying. I started crying. We cried together. There was a strange peace to our crying. But I could still feel her defenses. She didn’t want me to feel sorry for her and she didn’t want me thinking I knew how she felt or that I understood. She said I didn’t know what it was like to have everything taken away from you. She said that she didn’t have the motivation or the will to know what she wanted out of life. She said that sometimes when she was alone she wished she would have died in the accident. I told her everything was temporary. And she cut me off, “No it’s not! God, you don’t understand. I’m going to be having surgeries for the next year along with physical therapy. I can’t go out into public anymore because I look stupid and crippled! I can’t dance, I can’t do yoga, I can’t jog, I can’t swim, I can’t play sports! I can walk, Dustin, that’s it! I can walk, and I can sleep.” She was crying even more. I felt terrible. And then I remembered how Adam Raney outed me. I remembered how terrible I felt and how I felt exactly how she felt. And I told her the story how Adam spilled everything to my mom’s friend who incidentally he worked with. And how my mom found out and had a computer print out of one of my profiles on a gay website. And I told her how my mom and step dad sat me down with the print out and made me tell them everything. I told her how they didn’t tell me that they knew before I came home from Houston because they were afraid I wouldn’t come home at all. I told her how awful they made me feel because they said it was all my fault and that I was deceptive. I told her how they said I had hurt them and that if I expected to continue living in the house I couldn’t practice my homosexuality. I told her how my mom still didn’t believe I was gay. And then she understood, and the ice broke and crumbled down as if it were a glass affected by the law of gravity. “You do understand, Dustin. I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible. We know what it’s like, don’t we?” “We do.” I said. Then friend, we talked like we always talk. Like everything was fine. And I even made her laugh. It was great. I broke down one wall. But friend, I have many more to tear down. I will help her. I have to. I told her that she was the one sure thing in my life. Even though she didn’t say anything, and even though she told me she wasn’t sure about anything in her life right now, I knew she felt the same. I knew she knew we would always have each other. We talked about the night of the accident. There was a party, a big party with jocks and alcohol and how she got caught up in the moment and being someone she wasn’t. We talked about how none of those people came to see her at the hospital. We talked about when we were young and how awkward she was even though she was still beautiful. We talked about all the funny things we used to do and how our parents used to video tape us when we were little. We talked about Shawn, and I told her about Andy. I told her about the lunch dates and the basketball game and the emails and the invites. I told her all about the Birkenstocks and the short hair and how he was in town. She told me he was gay. She told me, “It’s like on the movie, Cruel Intentions.” I felt better about him then. I had to go to work. The phone call actually made me a little late, but I didn’t care. I was talking to the one sure thing in my life. I had found that and being late for work could not take that away from me. She said, “I’ll talk to you soon.” I answered with, “I love you.” “I love you too.” Then I was off to work. Friend, I think about Natalie daily now. I think about how she can’t dance. I remember when we were sixteen we went to our first rave together. We tried to get into a club down in Galveston. Brian and Amy were with us. They wouldn’t buy that we were 18, so we all went to Ihop for dinner at 12:30 and then danced on the beach. We left Galveston around 1:00 a.m. and drove back into Houston. Natalie pulled out a flyer that she had gotten at Hot Topic and we went to it. The air was hot and sticky that night as we drove with the windows down and the music loud. We drank Red Bull and acted jittery and excited. When we got to the rave, they said we had to be 18, but Natalie talked our way in. They frisked us to make sure we didn’t have any drugs and we were in. The music screamed from the front and the lights were wild. It was my first time ever hearing house music. The bass was deep and we sweated and danced together. I remember putting her hand on my chest so she could feel my heart pounding inside my ribs. We laughed and laid on the floor because we danced so hard. We were out of breath. Now I think that Natalie can’t dance. I think that life isn’t fair. I make myself believe that Natalie will get better and that we can dance again. But what if she doesn’t get better? What if she never dances again? I tell myself that will change nothing. I know that it changes something, but not our friendship. I want to do something special for Natalie. She told me she never leaves the house. She doesn’t go out anymore than she has to. She said she is afraid of cars and getting in one. She is ashamed of her back brace. It is only temporary. She can walk. I want to take Natalie to a nice place and surprise her with plane tickets to a place by the ocean. Just the two of us. I want to show everyone that I am not ashamed of her. When I talk to her next, I will tell her to read Psalm 91. Someone can use Chad’s advice. And it is very good advice. 021230 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, Today I had lunch with Andy. It was nice. Last night at work I found out something that made me feel awful. Andy is a stripper. I almost puked. I was so angry and jealous. Then I asked myself why I felt so upset and I realized it was because I liked him so much and the thought of him making other people the way he makes me feel made me upset. Jealousy is a funny thing. Whenever it comes up I automatically feel sick to my stomach. In the book “Tuesdays with Morrie” Morrie says you need to detach yourself from your emotion. You should recognize the emotion and then detach. It’s a very hard thing to do. I must say that my humanity does not let me detach from my emotions easily. The only way I can get rid of it is to resolve the matter quickly. Otherwise the terrible thing festers in me until I’m bitter. I got that word “fester” from the movie “French Kiss” with Meg Ryan. I love Meg Ryan, especially in the movie “You’ve Got Mail”. I believe what the world needs are more Kathleen Kellys because it would be more personal and friendly. Anyway what I did to resolve the issue was go straight to the source. I called Andy. I got his father on the phone and asked for Andy. I could hear Andy in the background asking if it was some girl and then his dad said, “No, it’s a guy.” Then Andy said, “Oh, cool.” “Hello…” “Hey, Andy, how are you.” His voice lights up like the fourth of July, “Hey! Dustin, how are you?!” “I’m okay, I haven’t talked to you in a while.” We made small talk and I asked him out for lunch. He agreed. I make the next fifteen hours disappear by walking around dreamily. I had a dream about kissing Andy and when I woke up I thought about how ridiculous all the obsessing was. Even now I think that someday I will realize how silly all of this has been and I will not care for Andy the way I think I do. Natalie told me, “Dustin, if you like him, you’re going to have to like him a lot, because he is going to be full of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” And I believe that she is right. I was late for lunch, about ten minutes. So was Andy, but only by five. He later told me that my lateness troubled him and that he was worried I would stand him up. I said, “I would never stand you up.” When I got to the Daily Grind he was inside at a table, eating soup. I thought it was a little rude to order without me, but I tried not to show it. Anyway, I sat down, and took off my coat. “You look nice,” I said. He looked at me and smiled, his hands in his lap neatly and his voice soft and embarrassed, “Thanks, you do too.” I expected that response, I expected the way he was sitting as if he was fragile. I expected the casual talk about life and the modest flirtation. He’s flying out to Montana tonight. Kelly lives in Montana. Kelly is his “girlfriend”. They have been dating three months. He believes that she is his soul mate. I felt like vomiting. I changed the topic to Natalie. We talked about losing everything. We talked about changing majors. We talked about right- and left-brains. We agreed that he is left and I am right. He likes my right-brained dominance. I showed him some of my new photographs. I can tell he is intrigued by me. I think I like this affect that I have over him. He looked like an Abercrombie model today. He wants to be one. I’m going to do his portfolio. I want Andy to be happy. But I think he is looking for his happiness in all the wrong places. I had lunch with Dr. Jekyll. It was an incredible transformation from that Friday night at the game. It’s situations like this in which I realize why I like Andy so much. I like being able to tap into his genuiness and see the person he really is. I like the honesty that he’s willing to show me. But I’m still not sure if I can deal with Mr. Hyde. I ordered the half sandwich turkey melt with potato chips and a café mocha. When I got my sandwich he asked what I was eating. I told him the turkey melt. “Really? That’s exactly what I got.” Then he told me about how he got a table tent with a number on it, the kind you get at a restaurant. He got it when he was with Kelly. The number was sixty-five. Incidentally it was the sixty-fifth day he had been with Kelly. He believes they were made for each other. I think about all his flirting with me two months ago. I hope she dies in an avalanche when they ski this week. That’s a very rotten thing for me to say. Very rotten. I’m more than sure she is a wonderful girl, she’s giving up her hair so they can make a wig for children with cancer. How noble is that? It’s completely wonderful! Then I realized I am jealous, again. We left lunch with Andy making sure I knew he would be home in a week and that he would have a week left when he got back from Montana. I told him to fly safe. And then turned around and asked, “How much?” “How much for what?” “A lap dance.” He laughed. I drove away listening to Paul Oakenfold and imaging us dancing dirty at a rave. Did I tell you I’m a killer dancer? 021230 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, Today I had lunch with Andy. It was nice. Last night at work I found out something that made me feel awful. Andy is a stripper. I almost puked. I was so angry and jealous. Then I asked myself why I felt so upset and I realized it was because I liked him so much and the thought of him making other people the way he makes me feel made me upset. Jealousy is a funny thing. Whenever it comes up I automatically feel sick to my stomach. In the book “Tuesdays with Morrie” Morrie says you need to detach yourself from your emotion. You should recognize the emotion and then detach. It’s a very hard thing to do. I must say that my humanity does not let me detach from my emotions easily. The only way I can get rid of it is to resolve the matter quickly. Otherwise the terrible thing festers in me until I’m bitter. I got that word “fester” from the movie “French Kiss” with Meg Ryan. I love Meg Ryan, especially in the movie “You’ve Got Mail”. I believe what the world needs are more Kathleen Kellys because it would be more personal and friendly. Anyway what I did to resolve the issue was go straight to the source. I called Andy. I got his father on the phone and asked for Andy. I could hear Andy in the background asking if it was some girl and then his dad said, “No, it’s a guy.” Then Andy said, “Oh, cool.” “Hello…” “Hey, Andy, how are you.” His voice lights up like the fourth of July, “Hey! Dustin, how are you?!” “I’m okay, I haven’t talked to you in a while.” We made small talk and I asked him out for lunch. He agreed. I make the next fifteen hours disappear by walking around dreamily. I had a dream about kissing Andy and when I woke up I thought about how ridiculous all the obsessing was. Even now I think that someday I will realize how silly all of this has been and I will not care for Andy the way I think I do. Natalie told me, “Dustin, if you like him, you’re going to have to like him a lot, because he is going to be full of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” And I believe that she is right. I was late for lunch, about ten minutes. So was Andy, but only by five. He later told me that my lateness troubled him and that he was worried I would stand him up. I said, “I would never stand you up.” When I got to the Daily Grind he was inside at a table, eating soup. I thought it was a little rude to order without me, but I tried not to show it. Anyway, I sat down, and took off my coat. “You look nice,” I said. He looked at me and smiled, his hands in his lap neatly and his voice soft and embarrassed, “Thanks, you do too.” I expected that response, I expected the way he was sitting as if he was fragile. I expected the casual talk about life and the modest flirtation. He’s flying out to Montana tonight. Kelly lives in Montana. Kelly is his “girlfriend”. They have been dating three months. He believes that she is his soul mate. I felt like vomiting. I changed the topic to Natalie. We talked about losing everything. We talked about changing majors. We talked about right- and left-brains. We agreed that he is left and I am right. He likes my right-brained dominance. I showed him some of my new photographs. I can tell he is intrigued by me. I think I like this affect that I have over him. He looked like an Abercrombie model today. He wants to be one. I’m going to do his portfolio. I want Andy to be happy. But I think he is looking for his happiness in all the wrong places. I had lunch with Dr. Jekyll. It was an incredible transformation from that Friday night at the game. It’s situations like this in which I realize why I like Andy so much. I like being able to tap into his genuiness and see the person he really is. I like the honesty that he’s willing to show me. But I’m still not sure if I can deal with Mr. Hyde. I ordered the half sandwich turkey melt with potato chips and a café mocha. When I got my sandwich he asked what I was eating. I told him the turkey melt. “Really? That’s exactly what I got.” Then he told me about how he got a table tent with a number on it, the kind you get at a restaurant. He got it when he was with Kelly. The number was sixty-five. Incidentally it was the sixty-fifth day he had been with Kelly. He believes they were made for each other. I think about all his flirting with me two months ago. I hope she dies in an avalanche when they ski this week. That’s a very rotten thing for me to say. Very rotten. I’m more than sure she is a wonderful girl, she’s giving up her hair so they can make a wig for children with cancer. How noble is that? It’s completely wonderful! Then I realized I am jealous, again. We left lunch with Andy making sure I knew he would be home in a week and that he would have a week left when he got back from Montana. I told him to fly safe. And then turned around and asked, “How much?” “How much for what?” “A lap dance.” He laughed. I drove away listening to Paul Oakenfold and imagining us dancing dirty at a rave. Did I tell you I’m a killer dancer? 021230 ... excuse me excuse the second copy of the same exact letter. i'm sure reading it through the first time was enough. anyway, as a friend, i know you'll understand that as a human, we all make mistakes. love, dustin 021230 ... the swinger of birches Dear Friend, I have a clear recollection of Amy Monson’s last show at Algona High School. I did the backdrops for the musical, which was entitled, “Anything Goes.” It was a great performance, it wasn’t her best, but it was good. Maybe it seemed better just because it was her last show. I remember when Monson wanted to make the drama t-shirts with rainbow colored lettering because the title of the show was “Anything Goes”. She was coming out at the time, or at least all of us drama students knew. We had met Sara. Monson’s ex-husband, Dave, always came to help us with sets. I don’t think we could have done it without him. But, Amy was incredible. I miss her a lot because she was so dynamic, her personality could fill up the room. In a way she was a lot of what I wished I could be, outgoing, boisterous, frank. When I first had her as teacher, I was a sophomore. I had her for speech. That was the year where I went through hell with all this gay shit and all the angst of American teendom. I think she helped me a great deal. Maybe she knew this all along, maybe she could see I needed help and she wanted to draw me out. I guess I was too self involved at the time to even know if someone was sending signals or offering their hand. Anyway, she was great. I got an ‘A’ on all my speeches. Sometimes I felt guilty because I had mastered the art of reading a speech and making it look as though I was giving one. I think Amy knew this too. And I also think that Amy knew that I knew what I was doing wasn’t helping me grow. Nonetheless, I think she liked my ideas. I once gave a speech on fighting censorship in the fine arts and talked about the exhibition “Sensation” that was supposed to come to New York City but Gulliani forbade it. He threatened to cut funding to one of the museums if they aired it, mostly in part to this painting done by a African-British artist named Chris Ofili who did a rendition of the Virgin Mary with elephant dung, enamel and porno cutouts. I looked at that painting a long time. I thought it was sad someone could be outraged by something so simplistic and trivial as one person’s perception and idea of who and what the Virgin Mary was. Anyway, Amy always clapped after you gave a speech. With mine I could always tell her applause was genuine. I miss her very much. She lives in Minnesota now and went back to college to get her master’s degree. She lives with her daughter, Linaya, and Sara. I’m not sure if I like Sara. I never got to know her. In a way I feel jealous because she took Monson away from me. It’s such a silly thing to be jealous. “Anything Goes” took place on a ship. I painted the set and the backdrop. It looked very nice. It was a slapstick musical comedy. Sondra performed so well that night, I knew that it was her calling. I actually knew the first time I ever saw Sondra on stage. She was in the fall play “Runaways”. It was Amy’s first dramatic play in Algona. It was a very nice play about a place where juvenile delinquents and runaways could go to get help. Erika played a psychiatrist. Sondra was a runaway. It was a very nice play. I remember Sondra cried. I couldn’t believe it was Sondra. In “Anything Goes” Sondra played this gangster from New Jersey. She was actually more of those cheap girls who hangs with the gangsters from the 40’s. She did a great job with the Jersey accent. Andy played a sailor. I could see his Calvin Klein boxer briefs through the pants. Erika didn’t get casted because Mr. DeWein, did casting. Amy let him have the privilege because she wanted to make the last show work and she didn’t want to have any more personality difficulties with DeWein than were necessary. I think Erika should have been up there. She is a good actress and it was her Senior year and she deserved it. On the night of the performance I sat with Erika in the balcony. I paid even though I didn’t have to. I wanted to support the drama department even though none of the drama kids supported the art department. In a way I was just an outsider to the drama kids. I just did backdrops and set. I didn’t show up for every practice. I didn’t act loud or obnoxious or outgoing like they did. I just talked with Monson quietly, before school and after practice. I once went to get power tools with her at her house. We listened to Elton John and Sade. We talked. It was always nice talking with Amy. I knew she was always listening and I knew that she was always there 100%, not just in body. Anyway that night, Erika and I snuggled and Andy winked at Erika, because at that time they were still in love with each other and Andy still hated me. But I liked imagining that he was winking at me and that all those times at practices when we didn’t know what to say to each other didn’t exist. After the show everyone was crying. I’m crying right now to think about it. We all gathered in the hall and everyone was hugging. I got lost in the crowd, I just gave Monson a quick hug. But I knew she knew that I meant it. I felt silly just standing around while everyone was crying. I didn’t feel like I was part of their bond. I found Erika, but she was with Andy and whenever Erika and Andy were with each other, it was automatic that I shouldn’t be around because Andy would get pissy. Andy had his arm around Tucker who was a freshman at the time. Tucker cried about everything. He still is very temperamental. Tucker is a short thin blond with a really boyish face. He’s cute, but very temperamental. One time I chased him around the school during practice and tackled him in the lawn and he started crying because he was wearing a new shirt. I just tackled him because I liked him. It was strange seeing Tucker and Andy. I wished that I could have been Tucker. I wished that I could have had that moment with Andy, with his arm around me and him being the one to comfort me. And I just walked away, because I could see I wasn’t needed. I got invited to the cast and crew party at Renee’s, but I didn’t show up. I felt awkward. I didn’t want to bother anyone. I took pictures of the show that night. I still haven’t developed them. I took pictures when we took down set. I developed those and put them in a nice album for Amy. I went to her house after school had let out for the summer. I put the album in a nice oil pastel colored gift bag that was decorated like a sailboat. When I got to her house, it was hot and muggy and there were boxes all over because she was moving the next day. That day was a Friday. I had just found out that Michael had gotten married and moved away and I was depressed. I was leaving for Houston the next week. We talked about life and love and moving and growing up. There was a big poster of John Lennon still hanging on the wall. It depressed me to see Monson’s house so torn apart when weeks earlier it was a home. But then, it was just a fragment of what a home could be. It was all those things that make a home put away in boxes. It reminded me of divorce. It reminded me of moving back to Iowa and leaving my dad behind in Houston. I don’t know why I’m telling you this all tonight. Maybe it’s because it’s a new year and I have to think about all the things that happened in the last year. I really miss Amy. I think I will call her and tell her about my life now and ask how she is doing. I will tell her about Andy and getting outed. I will tell her about my new car and getting an apprenticeship. When you don’t talk to someone in awhile it’s like there dead, except you always have the option of communicating. But with dead people you don’t have that option. I wish I did. I would talk to my Aunt Tracy who died in a bike accident. I would fill her in on everything. Tracy really wasn’t my aunt, but she liked think she was. I did too. When I was eleven I always fought with my mom; Tracy always was someone I could talk to. She understood and took time to listen, just like Amy. Life has gone on without her. Dan is remarried to a girl named Karrey, and it makes me think of Tracy a lot more. I remember how Dan and Tracy and I used to do things together all the time. One time at the swimming pool Dan and Tracy said I was there son. It made me feel good. Like I had a family. I looked a lot like Tracy because her dad is Hawaiian-Phillopino so she had dark skin and pretty features. My own family had become American. My mom married an average American man and had white children and I didn’t feel like I fit in. I tried really hard, but there were so many differences. I know it wasn’t right to think that the color of my skin affected it all but I got tired of people always asking if I was adopted. I got tired of people asking if I belonged to my mom. I got tired of them asking about my last name. Andy was adopted though. He contacted his real mom over the summer and she said she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He told me this when he took me out for lunch the first time. We were sitting in his car driving to Sarah’s (the restaurant). I almost cried because at that moment I realized how good Andy could be and I felt ashamed that I belonged to someone who loved me. I felt ashamed for feeling like my life sucked. And I was outraged that someone could ever treat something that belonged to them like that, especially Andy. I could have held his hand right then, but I didn’t. We were driving past a very Victorian house with a swing set and I thought about having the perfect family and living in a perfect house, and I realized that such a thing didn’t exist. I gave Chad two sweaters I never wore. One was a cream sweater with cable knit ribbing and an olive and black strip across the chest. It is a very nice sweater, but it will look nicer on Chad. The other was a blue sweater with a v-neck that I got at Goodwill a long time ago. It is still a nice sweater; it just doesn’t look nice on me. Chad was very happy to receive them. I never knew something so small could mean the world to someone. In the beginning Chad was kind of a pet project, but Friend, I don’t think he is anymore. Chad is a good person. I find myself sticking up for him when someone says something. We are going to hang out on Saturday or Sunday, and you know what? I’m looking forward to it. Tonight when my mom and I were walking into the house we looked at the stars. They are so beautiful out here in Iowa. They are clear and sparkle like rhinestones under water. There was a star with a blue tint that shone like tiny Christmas light out in the middle of the black sky. My mom pointed it out. I asked her if she thought it was awesome. I asked her how it made her feel. I told her I didn’t know how it made me feel. I told her I wished I did know how I felt. She asked, “Doesn’t it make you feel loved.” And right then, I knew I was loved. 030103 ... the swinger of birches it is the first day back to school after a two week christmas vacation. all through the night i tossed around because i dreaded coming back here. i really don't hate school, but getting back into routine is very hard. i know everyone will be comparing things they got for christmas as if it was some sort of competition and the idea makes me sick. i only have two weeks left of school before the end of the first semester and then i'm graduating. it's a very new idea, and i'm a little scared. but i think it's just the transition. all transitions are a little scary. and most are also a little exciting. i think it's the thrill of stepping out into the unknown. anyway everyone keeps asking what i'm going to do with my life as if my current decisions are detrimental and possibly terminal if i don't do the right thing. well friend, i admit i'm not exactly sure on what i want to do. i am going to apprentice with micheal cerizo in storm lake. he is a brilliant photographer. he looked at some of my work and said it was great and that i had a good eye and he was as excited as a three year old. it was nice, it gave me this feeling that i had something. that someone better than me really liked what i was doing. i just want to live. i want to live for the first time without being tied down to obligations. i want to travel and continue painting, and taking pictures and write. and i just want to live happy. you know, i want to be content with my life and feel like i'm doing what is right for me. my grandpa, the one who is like morrie in the book "tuesdays with morrie" wants me to go to college. he thinks i'm wasting my life if i don't. someday friend, i may go to college. but now i'm content to just live and learn. i know he will get over it if his emphizema doesn't kill him first, that or his italian blood. well friend, jen is moving to massachusetts by next week. she's going to college out there. i put a little picture of her in my room. it's a black and white picture and she looks beautiful. i'm going to miss her very much. these last few weeks i haven't seen her at all which was strange considering for most of my high school life we've been inseparable. it makes me a little sad to grow up. i wish that i could be ten again and not have to worry about things like war and taxes. then i realize that growing up is inevitable and that i should embrace it or i won't be happy. so i hope jen is happy. i know she will grow and develop so much and when i see her again, out in massachusetts (because i'll visit) she will be a woman. and i know she will have purpose and meaning in her life. i love her. 030106 ... silentbob dear friend its kind of weird to stumble across such detailed personal things about people i know. love bobby 030106 ... the swinger of birches Today is tuesday. Morrie and Mitch say they are Tuesday people. i'm not sure what day of person i am. i think if i had to pick, i would pick saturday. i am a saturday afternoon kind of person. mostly saturdays because ever since i can remember saturdays were a good day. they were the day that my dad called me on the telephone to talk with me. they were the day you could get up early and watch cartoons till noon. and mostly they were the day that my dad would take me to the university of houston to watch him teach his karate class. i loved watching his class, i still do. he is a national champion, friend, he got first in his division last year. he has been teaching for 25 years and has taught the indonesian army (because that is where he is from). when the president of indonesia came to houston, he was one of her body gaurds. it is funny talking of my dad so proud like when the reality lies within that i don't even know if i love him. i know that there was a time i thought he was the greatest man in the world. that was when it was just him and me. when i was little he would take me to the galleria to watch the ice skaters or to the big fountains in the museum district of houston. we rode on his bicycle all over because his car was stolen. he was very poor after my parents divorce, but you know what, he loved me. i wonder if he loves me now. i feel very disconnected from him. i feel as though all those things were just a dream and they never happened. but they did happen, and so many times people have tried to convince me that they never did. sometimes i hate my mother. for instance this morning i had a huge fight with her and my stepdad and they threatened to take my car away. i thought what i did was minor but obviously they thought otherwise. i feel very awkward. i'm on the verge of adulthood and i still feel like a child. this is the world of teendom. everyone keeps saying it's great. i think it sucks like a french whore. anyway, she kept sticking up for her husband. in ways he really has been more of a father than my real dad. but sometimes it just gets personal. too personal and everyone is left defending there own. it's like property you own it. i own certain people and feel obligated to come to there defense. but then i realize i can attribute to all these people's defense, and then i feel very caught in the middle. friend i think divorce is a very bad thing. it is probably the worst when a child is invovled because all these years i have been in the middle of three people's sets of problems and difficulties. i have been in between all of their misunderstandings. my mom says she is tired of being a mediator between me and my stepdad. i think to myself (becuase i hate to hurt her), "you put yourself in that situation." i remember before she got married to dan that she told me i was the number one priority in her life. it is selfish of me to want to be that priority still because life has gone on and with the addition of new children, i'm no longer number one. i feel like a homewrecker accept i haven't slept with anyone. it's more like my existence is the one doing the wrecking, because i confuse loyalties. friend, i hope that you will never know this position from personal experience. it is a terrible place to stand. i have to go to the art room and paint now, but please take care of yourself. love dustin. ps.: andy comes home today!!! yay!!!!! 030107 ... jinx Dustin, By reading this, I'm finding out so much more than you've ever told me. I feel closer in the fact that I now know all these things, but farther because I didn't know them from your mouth, and I know I am not one of those five girlfriends you have. You're a talented guy, Dustin, and you feel so much. I have to admit I'm feeling a bit jealous about the ability to express so clearly what you're thinking and feeling with your words-and your art. I also feel a bit guilty because of that, and because I was happy when I noticed grammatical errors-those reminded me that you're human too-like me. Thanks for you comments about my acting. You really thought it was my calling from seeing me in just "Runaways"? I've been feeling inferior to everybody lately. No-I'm not wanting sympathy or somebody to reassure me, just somebody to listen and maybe relate to what I'm saying and feeling and thinking... "teendom" is something that's easier to bare if you're not completely alone. I'm so afraid I'm not going to make an impact-that I will move away, get married, have a family, and be ordinary. I want all of those with the exception of the ordinary part, but I don't know how to move away, get married, and have a family without being ordinary and simple and plain. Reading all your words-your experiences-reading YOU on this page-I'm thinking my existance has been bland and common, and I feel like shit. But at least I know now, right? Just agree with me, and it will be ok. I'll see you in the morning-and maybe lunch? 030107 ... the swinger of birches when i have something on my mind i think the best thing to do is paint. it helps me get away from all the distractions that entangle my mind. last period i went out with julie and emily to take pictures. julie looked gorgeous today and she wore a top she got in europe from last summer. we took some by an old oak tree where the lighting was soft because the branches shielded the sun. but in order to get to those trees, we drove down fair street. andy lives on fair street and his car was in the driveway so i told the girls to stop. i hopped out of the car and rang the doorbell. his mom came to the door. i have only met his mother one other time and that was at his graduation party and andy briefly introduced me to her and i knew that when i met her she had the potential of being a major bitch. but it was funny, it must have been the weather or the circumstance of being alone, because her voice was more pleasant than at the party. and she was kind. and i actually think i may like his mother. anyway, i asked for andy and ended up standing there for like five minutes. i was standing in his back porch and looking at the decorating, the stenciling on the wall and the trees outside. i saw a baseball on a coffee table. it was a worn leather baseball with dirt and sweat. you could almost feel its weight in your hand and imagine the sun beating down on a hot july afternoon. i could feel my brow, tanned and sweaty, i could smell the air. i saw andy. his mom came back and she said andy was on the phone long distance and in bed and that he would be sleeping the afternoon away because he was still tired from his trip. i felt stupid and foolish for weighting so long. i think his mother felt bad for giving me such an answer. she said i could call back because he wouldn't be home tonight but that tomorrow would work better. i thought, "why bother" . julie and emily asked why it took so long and i told them what happened. they thought it was rude and stupid so instead we went to go find someone to buy cigarettes. i'm still thinking about that situation. i don't feel as stupid anymore. i just feel used to being blown off for a period of time and then followed through by an abundance of enthusiam only to be blown off again. its a funny rhythm and i'm not sure if i can find it comfortable. anyway. i just wanted you to know that painting helps take your mind off of things momentarily. i'm doing a self portrait. we should paint together someday. 030108 ... continued birches dear_friend2 030109 ... dustin dear_friend2 030109 ... LuckyChic hey i guess i needed to read that. lots of words added and twisted equal one stanza of raw emotions. new insights and nothing all calculated together. but the words are pure. it really does feel powerful to be able to type so much so fast, filling the blankness to your own opinions. 030207 ... eat id Dear ___, I fear that our time is up, finally. Your life moves thataway and mine the other. I feel angry with each day that passes where I can't help but think of you. Angrier still how easy it has become to convince myself that you don't think of me. These many months without your friendship have been empty ones. Yesterday I finally realized I was expecting you to be something that you are not. All this time I have been waiting for a gesture, a sign from you that our years together as friends made unbreakable bonds. As the time passes I find I am waiting for that which will not come. I have asked too much and bitterly given nothing - that was my pain I was showing. Was it wrong to hope you'd be the bigger person? Your life advances as mine does also - and I can predict the likely outcome. This will end. You won't come to my wedding. We will add each other to our lists of failed friendships. 060207 ... swinger_of_birches it has been years since i have written you. that was almost ten years ago. i reread letters written to you and i look at the boy who wrote them and i am still very much the same in many ways. though experience seasons a person and in many ways shapes the perception, inside when one knows who they are and what they want, that part never really changes. you just become a better more polished version of yourself. i'm in new york, finally. after years of running away from so many things, myself included. i finally made a decision three years ago to do what i truly loved doing and it has brought me here. new york is an amazing city. i feel its pulse every second, even when i sleep, i can't sleep if its too silent. i need the sirens, the traffic, the lights. every brick in every building all the way to the sky has so much energy caught inside it. its absorbed and passed on to the people inhabiting the spaces they contain. I am becoming more and more who I always imagined I would become when I wrote those letters to you all those years ago. Nothing gives me greater joy than to see the changes happening to me every day with every stride, every A C E 1 L F M train, every cab I hail, every interview I go on, every stranger that stops to talk to me in the street. I am becoming what I was meant to become. When you stop running from yourself, and you embrace yourself, then you find satisfaction and purpose. I will tell you I went to Steven Klein studios yesterday looking for a job. My friend told me to go and ask about assisting there. unfortunately Steven wasn't in and neither were his assistants but the guy at the studio said he would pass my resume on into the universe. I can't help but feel a little nervous wondering if he would keep his word. or even if he did pass it on, will the first assistant think that i'm solid enough for a position at the studio? then i think, why am I here, how did i get here? all because the universe timed things perfectly. I wouldn't be living this fantasy from childhood had it not meant to be. But in case its not...I'm stopping at Annie Leibovitz and Meisel's studio today, as well as Milk, Splashlight, and Pier 59. I also have an interview at noon for another studio. It takes balls to walk into a place cold without a contact and ask for a job, but this is where I'm at. I have sent resumes out the last two weeks and not a response from any of them. I have to take things into my own hands and make them happen. I have to hunger for it, the way everyone else hungers for it. I have to keep my elbows up and shove my way in through the front door. I'm really happy that you're still there, that you'll read this. Please forgive the time that's passed. Know that I'm everything you ever thought I'd become, that right now i'm just becoming it. 111116 what's it to you? who go blather from