"In these technologically advanced days no one writes letters anymore - the art of putting pen to paper is gone - even the Dear John letter has been replaced by tapping into a screen just four digits: L8RS "
T Bloom Author
In the light of the above quote, which many largely agree with, I would like to say that although authors continue to pass away - the art of letter writing did not die at the advent of social media.
For example please see below which is taken from Facebook no less, and to underline the point I have it on good authority it was tapped out on a tablet.
The stamp replaced the carrier pigeon, and in its turn the information super highway replaced the stamp.
Technology changes nothing more than the method.
If so moved to write...
One will write.
L8RS
Jax
2013/12/01
Hello Pea
It's three o clock on Sunday. It's the start of the dreaded hours that I thought I'd never see again. These are the hours when all England retreats to their nests . It is when (if I were with you) we'd snuggle on your sofa and watch Sky Sports or Sky Movies depending on who gets to wear the trousers that Sunday. (Did we ever watch Sky Sport?!) But these are the hours I recall that single men find their Saturday night hangovers are cured and they have a desire to socialise but everyone is gone; leaving them to flounder through the long hours of Sunday afternoon with nothing to do no where to go and more importantly no one to do it with. I have someone to do stuff with but I am here alone. I didn't imagine to be doing this again. Sunday afternoon is couples time and although I miss you all the time I am here, I miss you most about now.
I came here because they know how to treat my condition, and I know rationally it was the sensible move and yet all I can do is look around and think how unlike home this is. That's the affect you have had on me, you broke my reality.The mild chaos that is your house seems a more natural place for me to call home than here, which is mad as I've known this place almost all my life.
Currently as I type I am looking at the pictures on the wall. So different from your mismatched collection (sorry I know you think they match - they do not!) Yours are of random happy moments and are jauntily placed in random locations. I've never seen anyone place photo frames between books or on top of turntables till I came to your house! Here overpriced modern art in overpriced brushed steel frames are interior designed into perfect positions.
When I am at yours I have my Taz T-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms - my uniform to say 'fuck off world I am not going out'. My bare (hobbit!) feet would be up on one of the sofas or curling in the fluffy carpet. Not here. I'm in proper pajamas, stripped like a prisoners - probably right as I feel captive here. I have a dressing gown (which does not make me look at all like Huge Hefner, more like 'One flew over the Cuckoos Nest' complete with that twisty cord piping that makes me think of Victorian granddads). I have slippers as the floor is characterless floorboard and no one dreams of putting their feet on the seats. This couch is very sleek and modern it doesn't have that fall back onto copious cushions vibe you have going on with your twin sofas. I miss being attacked by your cushions - especially those purple ones with sequins on that scratch away at bare skin, or trying to figure out what the hell the ones with moustaches on them are for (as they have such an odd shape). There is just the one couch here, no twining like you have with your sofas.
Actually thinking of it. everything in your house is placed in bizarre yet repeating symmetry - like I said the chaos is mild, I liked to look around for the hidden order in it all. Like that time I noticed you always buy two perfume bottles so that you can repeat the same layout on each side of the dresser. Your home reflects you so completely - it looks free and easy, but if you pay attention you can see the order, the strict method in the madness.But madness there certainly is, your life compared to mine is truly spectacular in its randomness and craziness, and because of that your home absolutely glows with your personality. I makes me wish that I had one like it. I wonder what our place will look like, your style and mine (if I even have one) put together. What would I put in frames?
I struggle to think of any big moments in my life that I would want to preserve for prosperity.
Actually there is one.
I used to watch the crap kissing and incessant mauling that my acquaintances called relationships for years. It'd always start the same way - all heart leaps and obsession and always end with some female high on raw emotion, crying and ringing round the group looking for one of my mates who was always hiding while trying to figure how he went from heart leaps to terror. Then as we got older it'd be the other way around, a mate swearing he was better off without some bint who'd broken his heart. Then 6 pints later I'm wrestling them in taxi cabs to relieve them of their phones. Only for them to have STILL somehow managed to have sent drunken begging texts, which of course were ignored which of course stirred up the misery into fury which would usually end with the intervention of the Met regarding criminal damage.
It got old this cycle. I lost count. It amazed me how often my mates put themselves out there. I couldn't see the point.
Being a slow starter in the ladies department gave me a front row seat to relationship handling in our local style and to be honest I didn't want any part of it . I was determined to use my head when it came to romance and figured I'd hold out for a rational woman who could give all that roller coaster stuff a miss. No heart leaps, no obsession but no deceit or lies or pathetic hope while one of us hid under the table. We'd play it straight and we'd both know what we'd get out of it. - calm, together, rational, planned future All I had to do was use my head and ensure I approached relationships as something to be controlled and managed like any project.
But while I was taking my time, one by one my mates appeared to get the hang of relationships that could last longer than five minutes. That was when the painstakingly selected cream envelopes would arrive in my hardwood hallway and I'd tip out yet another invitation that would have my name next to the words plus one. That's when Sunday afternoon began to get harder to fill as the pool of people to spend it with got ever smaller and smaller. I realised that without knowing it I'd got to that age where I either got myself on the road to marriage or be 'that guy' - the never married guy down the pub because he has nowhere to go or anyone to go. to. So I carefully selected Emma and you know, it wasn't bad.
Anyway there I was being sensible with my sensible choice and then there in the middle of someone elses big day, I felt my heart leap, my breathing quicken and a feeling of joy rush around my body. I had not moved, Emma hadn't done anything. Nothing had changed. All that had happened was that a friend of mine, a girl truly spectacular in her randomness and craziness, had walked into the room.
I'd like to preserve that day.
That was the day it just dawned on me that EVERY time I saw you, thought of you, heard your voice… my life brightened. Even my bluest of moods couldn’t stand up to being with you. You broke those too, and made me smile. No one has ever done that, not Emma, not anyone - just you.
I did the sensible thing that any man would do having had that illuminating thought.. Drink. It was a wedding after all!
Much later I heard you saying your goodbyes and that you had to catch the last train to London. The rest was a blur - I suppose a rational date is a good choice if you are to ditch her at a wedding. I just knew that I had to catch you up and so thankfully did Emma. But you were no where to be seen.
I was heartbroken when I didn't see you at the station. I was sure you left before me and you should be there. I walked and jogged as fast as my drunken legs would carry me to get there in time for the train… but you weren’t there. I thought I’d missed you. I lost it, because you weren’t there. I felt like rocking back and forth… but then you appeared.
I'd like that day now. I'd like to be there in the gloom of a station lit by one sodium light. I'd like to see you walk out of the shadow again. I'd like to hear me babble at you like a madman!
I told you then I was not going into this if we were not going to get married but I wanted to court you I think that is what I said or it was some such drunken rubbish. You just smiled and said courtships are for twentysomethings with all the time in the world and post thirty five you started cutting corners to find out if someone's in it for the long haul.
So bang went courtship and in came intimacy - just like that, After that a whirlwind - by one month in, weekends were always spent together, two months in, and I was practically living at yours, three months in and I was pod and you were pea (really?...I was never gonna do embarrassing pet names) four months in and friends and family are involved five months in and we're on holiday and tomorrow is ten months in and I can't imagine how I got through my life before you. All my careful planning meant nothing, I was so pleased I had my epiphany that you are the best person I know, and I that without thought or plan fell in love with you. Not who you might have been, or who you could have been… with YOU. … how could I not think of you as the first and last thing in my life every day? As much as you might not believe it… despite being quite clearly nuts (!) you are the most amazing girlfriend, going beyond my imagination. You broke my reality, and I love you even more for that.
Anyway can you credit it - it s already 6 0 clock.
Three hours just to type 1500 words! Exhausted. Such a struggle to do much ... I'm hoping this dose and the next begin to provide more stability then we can be back together.
It is almost time for my next dose. So I suppose I will glide my slippers over the hardwood floor and get it over with. It is so different here from your place. I miss the smell of your candles, and the way you nonchalantly let the wax flow but I know when you say it's pretty and random to just let it flow - I know you pick off the hardened wax when no one is looking. I see the order you need behind the veil of chaos. So I know that especially when it came to my illness you feel the wax is just flowing and flowing. But you have no chance to tidy it up when no one is looking, and that’s down to the situation, which is my fault. I’m the troublemaker in this, and for that, I am eternally sorry. I would ask for your forgiveness as well, because the truth is… YOU deserve better. If you can forgive me, I would treasure that. I would like it if you could light a candle for me though - I miss your candles.
Look I have to go.
Remember, I have never felt like I felt with you, I am still convinced that you were an angel sent to me.
Happy Sunday Angel - talk soon.
I love you.
Pod
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