I’m leaving the hospital for good. You’ll probably say, “Yeah, it’s not the first time you’ve talked about leaving.” That’s just it. I’ve always talked about it, hoping the Gold Lady would drive down from Santa Monica and take me away. But she keeps telling me this is something I would have to do myself, that I would have to come to her. So I did what you normally do, pretend to take my pills and flush them down the toilet when I had to go to the bathroom. I’m feeling a little sick right now, but I think I’ll be OK.
It’s going to be wonderful, Edmund. I wish you could come with me, but you are way too cynical and I’m sick of how you’ve fetishized (a Susan word) my pens. I’m taking my pens and notebook with mf so you’ll have to find something else to stick up your ass when I’m hone. I’m going to draw pictures of the Gold Lady and the bright lights of L.A.
I wish I could draw a picture of the Gold Lady and leave it with you. If I don’t leave now, I never will. Keep an eye out for her in the newspaper, TV, or magazines. You’ll see her when you least expect her. Give the Gold Lady a calk if you ever need someone to kick your ex-wife’s lawyer boyfriend’s ass.
Be nice to Susan, Dr. Souza, and Dr. Petersen. If you ever see Shin again, say hi. When you come up to L.A., please clean up your act so you don’t embarrass me in front of the Gold Lady and all the fabulous people. ‘Till we meet again.
Your friend always,