Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to you. I know you two came around in January but you really didn’t say much. I can’t think of much to say, maybe that’s why I’m doodling. I’ve been drawing a lot lately so I hope you enjoy the pictures. It helps me think of what to say to you two so deal with it. I’m sure you’ve heard of my so-called obsession with the Gold Lady and it’s not an obsession. She is very real and she is someone I know very well. I’m not on talking terms with her right now, so I hope you do not think otherwise.
It’s been a long time since I’ve taken Trig. When was the last time I took that class. I think it was the 10th grade. I can’t remember the equations to make rose curves, but I thought I’d draw them for you. I tried asking college-educated Fred about how to do the equations, but he knows shit about math. Neither does my normal brother Dylan. He got out of high school with only intermediate algebra. Can you tell me what cos²Θ+sin²Θ is? I bet you can’t. I’m not going to tell you.
So how are you people doing? That’s what I’m supposed to do in a letter so I’m doing it. I just talked to my brother Dylan and do you know what he told me? He told me you threatened to sue the hospital and settled out of court. And you never even said anything to me about it. I’m the one who got hurt. If it wasn’t for your fag-hating ideas, it would never happen to me in the first place. I should sure you because I don’t even know what my life would have been like in the past five years.
Have you ever heard of “dick therapy?” I didn’t think so. I’m the one who had it and perhaps it would do Dad a world of good. Dr. Marcus lives in Banker’s Hill, right near where we use to drive down to church. Does Father Lewis know what kind of people you are? Does any priest at the La Jolla church know? Do you even talk to the Chen family. If so, tell David I said hello. And when you see Dr. Marcus for dick therapy, tell him I said hello and thank him for the settlement. Give his wife my regards and ask her about her strap-on collection. While you’re at it, ask Mom to fuck you with some of them.
Perhaps I should tell you everything is fine and that I have so many wonderful friends. I’m sure Edmund would make wonderful dinner company and Roger could come over in a really tacky dress. Did I mention I have a really cute therapist? Her name is Susan and she is a medical student. She loves fashion a lot and she has lots of Vogues on her desk. I wouldn’t mind dating her but I’m her patient and that is too, too bad. I just wanted you to know that I’m not into guys only and that you can wrap that around your tight little noodles. I’ll write more later. I’m going to walk with Dylan to the Convention Center and the Gaslamp Quarter and I will get to see all the construction. Bye.
Your loony toony son,
WRITING WITHIN THE TOWER
Here is a picture of you falling off the America Plaza tower. I drew you two as stick figures because you do not deserve a more attentive representation I give to the Gold Lady. I don’t even care if you get the building right either. I can see the pencil point building from Dylan’s townhouse on Kettner and Cedar. Hopefully, you two will fall on the trolley tracks where the red train going to Mission Valley will finish you off. I will stand in front of Dylan’s townhouse or even walk to the Little Italy trolley station to zoom by with pieces of you. Then, I will grab a bottle of Syrah from Dylan’s wine rack, open it, and celebrate.