Hello. Has the day treated you well so far? Does this kind of weather bother you? Are you comfortable in this city? What does it feel like to receive a letter from someone you have never met? This letter was designed for a person to find it, pick it up, and open it—to read it. Don’t you love it when things work out as planned? Thank you for picking up this letter.
To be validated is to feel alive. If you’re curious I’m someone who just moved here from the southwest. I still feel slightly uncomfortable when I walk down the street, I bite my fingernails when I’m nervous, and I was totally heartbroken when Mister Roger’s died.
Write me back?
Reply:
Do you get warm fuzzies? Mine are infrequent. I can’t identify what triggers them, but they come only as the result of contact with others. Animals or vegetables do not give me warm fuzzies.
Finding your letter today (you said that it was intended for me, didn’t you) gave me reason to pause long enough to reread your words several times through, until the warm glow sadly faded away...and gave way to curiosity.
Some questions;
Who would reach out in such an intimate (yet anonymous) fashion?
How much time must you have invested in creating your missive?
Did you purposely wait for a grey, dreary day?
Wasn’t it just perfect that I, among so many others, found your letter?
Some answers;
I enjoy this City more than any place I know...it will always be my home. Regardless of where I go.
Rain is indifferent to where it lands...or on whom. We each look the same when our hair and clothes are soaked through. It’s difficult to pretend in the rain.
Yes. I do love it when things work out as planned.
-- M
Post: Sorry about Fred.
My Reply:
Dear M,
I got your letters- both of them. Some things that make me happy: mountains, illy coffee, melting vanilla ice cream, and responses to the things I do. Even better, calculated responses; the more planned out, and deliberate, the better. Your response, particularly, gave me warm fuzzies because I wasn't expecting it.
I had already received a response earlier in the day from an elightened man who meditates. We e-mailed back and forth, discovered we both have spent time in
When you say that I must be invested in my missive, you are correct. I'm genuinely interested in how people would respond. And yes, I my goal is to continue making similar letters and leaving them for people to find. But if you were to assume that my aim is vain, that I want tons of people filling my inbox with messages about how creative (or stupid) my project is, you'd be on the wrong track. This was the first letter that I left, and I only intended it for one person. And no, I wasn't waiting for a rainy day. How do you think that affected your reception?
Here should be some answers to your questions:
I wanted you to pause. I wanted one person to pick up the letter and sort of turn around and make sure that someone wasn't watching them. It feels good to receive something--even better if you're the only one in the world. That feeling of momentary singularity seems endemic to this time. The problem with my project, of course, is that I'm not god; I don't know anything about you and can't single-handedly validate your existence. In that split second that you picked up the letter and became hyper-aware of yourself (and I'm guessing now), you were able to be whoever you wanted.
And afterwards, you could tell me about it. You could tell me about yourself. Or you could tell me about me; what it means to leave letters for strangers.
Well, that's the romantic generalization at least. More specifically, I like paper. I enjoy writing and books. Real, physical, actual letters (like the ones you get in the mail) excite me more than emails do. So I went with my gut and decided to see if I could momentarily alter someone's perspective (perhaps brighten it; perhaps sour or confuse it) by leaving a token of time creatively spent. I left my address/email because I thought it was the closet thing to reciprocation. How people react is important to me. And even though this could be called an "art project," possibly spoke of later (on a blog, passing conversation, etc.), I just moved to the city and need a way of corresponding with it-- and its people.
I like your description of rain. The way you describe its indifference strikes me--but even though we may look the same when soaked, each person's odor seems highlighted in this weather. Ducking between individuals on the el, you can run the gamut-- body odor soaked with wet earth smell (it feels like you could plant something in their hair) to the extra spritz of cologne on the insecure.
I hope you found this letter insightful. Do you buy ground coffee or do you grind your own? Do you drink tea? And does it matter which mode of caffeine consumption in this weather?
To you,
J.
Post. I'm sure he went quietly into the night. Or is stomach cancer something that wouldn't allow that?
M's Reply:
Did you not receive the letter that I sent to you via the USPS? You explained that you prefer “real, physical, actual letters” and I wanted to appeal to your sense of tangible pleasures.
If not, I fear that I may not have sent the letter to your proper address; I addressed the envelope from memory...I no longer have your letter.
Perhaps I should try again.
In the meantime, might I suggest the following establishments for coffee drinking scriveners who are recent arrivals to our City:
Julius Meinl Cafe |
Meinl's may not satisfy your Italian espresso jones, but it's the most European of all cafes in
Paper Boy | 1351 W.
Sounds to me like you may have much in common with the staff of this gem of a shop...they are passionate about paper.
Paper Source |
Aimed more toward those who prefer to design and assemble their own cards or invitations. There is a section upstairs at the
-- M
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