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Monday, June 2, 2014

Letter #7: A Ruffled Mind on a Restless Pillow

June 2, 2014


Mr. David Sedaris
Little, Brown and Company
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY  10017


Dear Mr. Sedaris:

I read some tutorials last night on how to become friends with a famous person. There is so much advice on the internet with regard to approaching this task smartly.  So far, I think I'm doing okay.  Plus, I always let my husband read my letters before I drop them into the mailbox.  David tends to temper my zeal with discretion.  I have a lot of zeal.  Maybe, too much.  I think many folks just naturally prefer small doses.  It's easier to digest.

Of course, I don't believe everything I read, but I do find this research quite fascinating.  For example, a self-proclaimed expert in one forum suggests that "most celebrities have a shortage of decent friends to hang out with.  Conversely, they are exposed to an overabundance of scumbags who want things from them and just can't be cool."  Not just an abundance, mind you.  An overabundance, which is so unfortunate.  Is this happening to you?

Elsewhere on the same topic, another resource proposes very strong pseudo-scientific counsel that I agree with wholeheartedly.  "Friendship is a special type of chemistry where you just like cracking jokes and making each other have a good time.  It's not a chance to leach off somebody else for value.  You can't hang out with the person you idolize, but then also bug them for help.  Or stuff."  This is sage advice.

I'm embarrassed.  I had no idea things were this bad.  I bet reading these tutorials can help prevent a great deal of heartache.  I can send you the links, if you like.  It's no problem, really.  You need to protect yourself.

You know what's interesting?  Last year, I dreamt that I had the keys to Kid Rock's waterfront mansion on Lake Fenton in Michigan.  I do not think we were in a romantic relationship, which I'm completely okay with because I do not find him attractive.  Nonetheless every night after work, I let myself into his pad and warmed some leftovers in the microwave - mostly chinese food and pizza.  Then, I'd tidy up the place.  I rinsed the empty Jim Beam bottles and folded all the undershirts and bandanas that were in the dryer.

Kid Rock was never around during my visits.  He must have been on tour.  In my subconscious, I was afraid that he might come home early and ask my opinion about some of his latest dope rhymes.  Because I am largely unfamiliar with his body of work, this dream made me terribly uneasy.  Even though I wasn't awake, I was looking over my shoulder the whole time.

Kid Rock and I, we have so little in common.  Strip clubs have always given me the creeps.  I'm just not that casual.  And I've never lifted a chair in anger.  I think our conversations might be tedious.  Explaining my presence on his property would be stressful, as well.

I do believe that dreams are symbolic.  I bet this one says plenty, but I'll be damned if I can figure out what.  I read somewhere that when you think about cleaning things in your sleep, it implies that you're removing negativity from your life and overcoming major obstacles.  Currently, I don't have any big obstacles in my life, which is wonderful.  But somewhat disappointing, I suppose, as far as analyzing this curious vision.

When I had that dream back in April where you and I were friends, I had a really good feeling about writing to you.  I still do.

Fondly,


Mary Killian

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