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I’ve always wanted to be a movie star. One of the main rigors of A-List life is press interviews. Foolishly, no one has yet sought to interview me, so I thought I’d practice on my own.

Annabel: Thank you for meeting me.

Annabel: No.

That wasn’t a question.

Well, you sounded sort of unsure of yourself.

I wasn’t.

Okay.

I’m very confident.

Ha. Maybe you’re the ego and I’m the id.

For the last time, you are not a physical representation of my multidimensionality.

That’s not what I told my tax lawyer.

Who’s the super-ego, then?

That guy.

Hi guys! How’s it going?

Get out of here.

Yeah, scram!

How do you think your childhood impacted your body of work?

I don’t have a body of work. It’s more like a couple of fingers. Maybe some dandruff.

You’re very evasive. Does that stem from your childhood?

I’m not evasive.

Okay, but you seem antagonistic toward me.

As if I’m battling this version of myself.

Please stop trying to find meaning in this bit. If you could be a Power Ranger, what Power Ranger would you be?

I don’t know. Blue?

[Laughs] No, but seriously.

I like blue. Is that wrong? Are you writing this down?

No. Can you spell your name for me?

A-N-N-A-B-

No, your last name.

M-

Got it. How many gods do you believe in?

Two to seven.

Thank you for your time.

Yes.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. He did not, however, believe there was enough stretch of road to ensure that the Delorian would reach the required speed of 88 miles per hour; Gatsby thought Doc Brown was more charlatan than physicist, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…
Oh, shit! Gatsby was right…
Perhaps we should not have chosen a street that dead-ended at a brick wall…
So we beat on, Delorians against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the future.

Dear Rusty,  

Loved the drawings!   I tried to post them on my social, but apparently, they violate some regulations.  I guess not everybody has the same taste in art.    


Dear Jody,  

I love you, too!  Just not in the specific ways described in your manifesto.  That diagram on page 60 seems like it might be particularly uncomfortable for both of us!  Good luck with that harness idea, though.  


Dear Roxy,  

So that was you who leapt out from between my garbage cans this summer!  Excellent detective work finding my home address.  Goes to show you that, as you repeatedly mention, “people are capable of horrifying things when pushed to the edge.”  Unfortunately, because I am allergic to white powder, I couldn’t eat the cookies you sent.  They look scrumptious, though!  


Dear Serpent of Unholy Blessings,  

Loved your poems.  Unfortunately, nothing materialized at the end of the seventh repeated verse, per your instructions.  Promise I’ll keep trying!  


Dear Crustblade,  

No, I don’t dwell outside of time, but when I’m waiting at the DMV, it sometimes sure feels like it!  The sketch of my skull you sent will go great with the Love Is cartoons on my fridge.  


Dear M. Thorax,  

Sorry, but many of your cut-and-paste magazine letters came unglued and scattered to the bottom of the envelope.  In answer to the one question I was able to decipher, no, I don’t think you sent enough rolls of painter’s tape to “completely mummify me.”  I will give it a try, though.