Got home today to find that my girlfriend had cleaned the entire apartment (except
for my desk, which looks like it's been occupied by a prolific ecoterrorist).
She put three years worth of mail into a stack on a chair. I wanted to inspect the
stack, which I promptly did. I'm goal-oriented, and like to follow through when I
have a plan. I don't like to half-ass things, even if they're as simple and unimportant
as inspecting a stack of mail. Never mind that most of the mail was unopened, implying
that I couldn't be bothered at the time of its arrival to have been interested in
it. This afternoon, I decided to start caring about it, and that's that. If I want
to be crazy, then that's my business, and you aren't going to stop me.
Now that you understand why it is that I was inspecting a stack of mail, I'd
like to tell you why it is that I'm telling you why it is that I was inspecting a
stack of mail.
On top of the stack was a letter from Bank of America. I think it was a letter, anyway.
The envelope had only been partially opened, and the address of the recipient (me)
was that of my father's house. I moved out of his basement over two years ago. Why
this piece of mail followed me to my new address is beyond me. What matters is that
I still have it.
What also matters, the only thing that matters, is that there is a drawing on the
back of the envelope.
I'm not excited about it because it's a good drawing. On the contrary, I'm
interested because it's a drawing that defies explanation, to say nothing of the fact
that it spits right in the face of every artistic advance made by humanity since the
dawn of time.
It's a drawing by me.
My girlfriend saw that I had taken an interest in the picture, and mentioned that
the reason she had saved it was that she wanted to know what it was that I was trying
to draw. She asked me what it was.
I couldn't tell her. I couldn't even begin to guess.
If you would like to see this drawing for yourself, and I have a hunch that you do,
then click here.
And, if you happen to formulate any theories concerning the subject of the drawing
(in other words, what in the hell it was that I was thinking at the time), then I'd
love to hear them.
I want to put this behind me. Help me help myself run away from my past.