Friday 11/8/24
I sent my sister a large envelope for her birthday containing a card, a story, and a letter. As I think the letter contains relevant and timeless truths, I will include it here.
Dear sister of mine,
I’m sorry this birthday envelope from me is late. Hopefully what I sent the boy makes up for my tardiness in part. (It always strikes me how close you were to having the same birthday as each other.) I struggle so much to do anything—to remain alive, to keep going at all. I write and I run stairs, and that takes everything within me it feels like.
I also wanted to send you more than just a card. And that “more” is this story called “Big Bob and Little Bob” that you have also by now found enclosed, which is hard for me to look at—to so much as have in my hands—knowing how good it is and the situation I’m in being what it is, and that no one in the world can see the likes of this story right now because of that situation.
In this work, you will recognize some familiar names. They’re primarily names. That is, no attempt has been made to depict the past, or people from out of the past. Certain names in the story overlap with names we have known. But that’s as far as the overlap goes. These aren’t those people. They’re the people in this story, which is also as strong a work of art as I can make. I think it’s very special. It’s about neighbors. And the nature of friendship. The value of friendship.
True friendship is very rare. We often think that friendship is between friends as social mores define the term. But friendship goes further than that. Friendship takes all forms. It’s crucial to the most important relationships. All of them.
The story is lengthy. It’s for a book called Big Asks: Six Novelettes About Acceptance and is how the book begins. I worked on it for a long time. I could not venture a particularly accurate guess as to how many times it made me cry in working on it and reading it back. It was a lot.
And that hurt me, of course, because, again, I know what this is, I know how special it is, and no one save the few people I share it with get to see it right now. It’s a story that is itself a friend to the world, but it’s not allowed to go out and play, so to speak, and be that friend. That vital friend. A friend people need.
I also wanted to properly thank you for sending me the Audubon book way back. I can’t use it right now. I don’t have the room, believe it or not. This is no way to live, it’s no human way to live. John is supposed to come here and help me with the apartment, but even still, partaking of that book and enjoying it would be something in my future, because my “now” is something worse than hell and allows for little to nothing else, for a litany of reasons. Right down to my living space.
But I think about that book—which I love—often and it motivates me. Is bound up with that dream of my future. Having this book in a house of mine, having comfort, and the things I deserve, and just being happy sitting there, in peace, looking at those illustrations.
I will sometimes not comment on various matters—or put them off—because, as I said, I really have to fight not to give in and…stop living. It’d be so easy for me to let go of the rope.
This can make me appear to be avoiding matters—and sometimes I am, but for what feels like my very survival—or, worse, that I’m ungrateful or rude.
This is just harder than anything. What I am going through, the situation I’m in. There’s never been anything like it for anyone else. There’s never been anyone like me for this to happen to.
I’m sorry again that this is late. I hope you like the story. And do know that while I am, of course, your brother, I am also your friend.
Love,
Colin
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