so i figured i'd catch up on my correspondence. here goes.
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I. Dear Whiskey,
I am ever so sorry that I judged you incorrectly all this time. Perhaps it took me a while to realize that we are compatible, and you're really not out there to fuck me up hardcore at all. Thank you for showing me that a blissful intoxication is really possible without the hardcore ramifications.
Your new fan,
Vaughn
II. Dear ConCarne,
I hope you had a great pre-birthday slosh. Meeting all your bouncer friends was fun, as well as fucking hanging out and shooting the shit. Glad to know you're one of the few great people out there, that despite whatever shit is going on with the gang, you will still fucking call me to have a beer and dish. You are beautiful beyond words and I'm glad to have you in my life. Oh, and thanks for re-introducing me to Whiskey. We got along just fine.
Your buddy,
Sammo
III. Dear 24-year-old Archaeologist that is currently pased out in my bathroom,
Granted, you were pretty cute and intelligent, but you were too big of a drunken fool to really win me over. Someday you will learn that playing off your intellect by spouting out terminology and medical jargon is really not effective if you combine it with, "Uh, can I touch your boobs now?" I am glad that the only reason that you are passed out in my bathroom is because you are a friend of my roommate's and not because I brought you here.
Oh, and I'm not cleaning up your blood from cracking your skull open on the toilet. That's totally all you, and maybe Jay.
Sincerely,
Vaughn
IV. Dear Pierre,
Thank you for making me go to fucking karaoke with the boys; I miss singing so much. I remember feeling so alive when I sang with my brief punk band, Bikini Ski-Mask Killer, fucking egging the crowd on, having shit thrown at me. Fucking learn the drums already so we can play again.
Thank you also for being in the same city as me. I love that we share the same randomness, that going to Chinatown on a whim to look for bootlegs and Pocky is just an acceptable thing to you as staying home and watching Bill and Ted. My fucking left arm. My partner in crime. I heart you.
Your forever sister,
Vaughn.
V. Dear U M A S S Boston and 7W N Y,
You thought that you could thwart me with your impossible kerning, incorrect figures and fucked up engineering. You thought that by throwing me an impossible deadline, you would have me beat. How nice it is to throw it back at your fucking face and PROVE YOU WRONG. I will walk blissfully down the halls of UMB and take pride in my work, take pride in the students defacing my hard labor and beautiful design fabrication, because you only know that you're really good if either someone steals your shit or marks it up out of jealousy.
You thought yourself a worthwhile adversary, but you fucking fell short. I am too quick-witted for you, too versatile and too firmly grounded in the principles of typography, form and mechanics. Next time, throw a harder curveball and then we'll play.
Your New Overlord,
Vaughn.
VI. Dear SCUL,
Thank you for showing me the pleasure of dogfight, for being a melting pot of interesting and diverse people who believe there is more to life than fucking and baseball. Thank you for awakening in me the passion of reliving youth, especially when I had no such youth to relive. I think I judged too harshly and my leave was ill-intentioned. But I am back with full force, and will give to you my all as you completely fucking deserve it.
Your Lieutenant Commander,
Samurai
+++++
Its gorgeous outside. I should ride a chopper and draw people in the park.
I would want nothing more than this on a day like today, except maybe having my dad up here so we could weld together.
+++
I. Dear Whiskey,
I am ever so sorry that I judged you incorrectly all this time. Perhaps it took me a while to realize that we are compatible, and you're really not out there to fuck me up hardcore at all. Thank you for showing me that a blissful intoxication is really possible without the hardcore ramifications.
Your new fan,
Vaughn
II. Dear ConCarne,
I hope you had a great pre-birthday slosh. Meeting all your bouncer friends was fun, as well as fucking hanging out and shooting the shit. Glad to know you're one of the few great people out there, that despite whatever shit is going on with the gang, you will still fucking call me to have a beer and dish. You are beautiful beyond words and I'm glad to have you in my life. Oh, and thanks for re-introducing me to Whiskey. We got along just fine.
Your buddy,
Sammo
III. Dear 24-year-old Archaeologist that is currently pased out in my bathroom,
Granted, you were pretty cute and intelligent, but you were too big of a drunken fool to really win me over. Someday you will learn that playing off your intellect by spouting out terminology and medical jargon is really not effective if you combine it with, "Uh, can I touch your boobs now?" I am glad that the only reason that you are passed out in my bathroom is because you are a friend of my roommate's and not because I brought you here.
Oh, and I'm not cleaning up your blood from cracking your skull open on the toilet. That's totally all you, and maybe Jay.
Sincerely,
Vaughn
IV. Dear Pierre,
Thank you for making me go to fucking karaoke with the boys; I miss singing so much. I remember feeling so alive when I sang with my brief punk band, Bikini Ski-Mask Killer, fucking egging the crowd on, having shit thrown at me. Fucking learn the drums already so we can play again.
Thank you also for being in the same city as me. I love that we share the same randomness, that going to Chinatown on a whim to look for bootlegs and Pocky is just an acceptable thing to you as staying home and watching Bill and Ted. My fucking left arm. My partner in crime. I heart you.
Your forever sister,
Vaughn.
V. Dear U M A S S Boston and 7W N Y,
You thought that you could thwart me with your impossible kerning, incorrect figures and fucked up engineering. You thought that by throwing me an impossible deadline, you would have me beat. How nice it is to throw it back at your fucking face and PROVE YOU WRONG. I will walk blissfully down the halls of UMB and take pride in my work, take pride in the students defacing my hard labor and beautiful design fabrication, because you only know that you're really good if either someone steals your shit or marks it up out of jealousy.
You thought yourself a worthwhile adversary, but you fucking fell short. I am too quick-witted for you, too versatile and too firmly grounded in the principles of typography, form and mechanics. Next time, throw a harder curveball and then we'll play.
Your New Overlord,
Vaughn.
VI. Dear SCUL,
Thank you for showing me the pleasure of dogfight, for being a melting pot of interesting and diverse people who believe there is more to life than fucking and baseball. Thank you for awakening in me the passion of reliving youth, especially when I had no such youth to relive. I think I judged too harshly and my leave was ill-intentioned. But I am back with full force, and will give to you my all as you completely fucking deserve it.
Your Lieutenant Commander,
Samurai
+++++
Its gorgeous outside. I should ride a chopper and draw people in the park.
I would want nothing more than this on a day like today, except maybe having my dad up here so we could weld together.