August 5, 2009

Dear BA,

I am emergent. I am emerged. I am that which emerges from a cave of isolation to find that the sun blinds, the clinking of coins grates, the human voice garbles. Delta – that oasis of fellow intellectuals where I once felt so at home was suddenly a strange, hostile terrain. But of course I swallowed my mewing newborn fears and fumbled with the pedals of my bike to come meet you, BA.

I do not regret cutting my self-seclusion short at all, for it was worth it to see your face again, BA. I had nearly forgotten the sheen of your hair, the way you shuffle your loose leaf papers, the way you smile at everyone. Though the heavily creamed coffee nearly made me ill and the scent of packed together smokers and thrift store clothing was nauseating, it was all worth it.

I just wanted you to know how touched I was by your proposal of a joint creative project. I know I simply sat there, squinted and grunted for much of our coffee rendezvous. I apologize. I am out of practice, having spoken only to Jacques in the past two months. And with him, I prefer to communicate primarily in French.

I have some ideas for our project. I am thinking arboretum, body paint, a camera, and postmodernism. By the way, I am having a small get together this Friday to celebrate my revitalized self. It’s a potluck, so don’t forget your famous casserole!

AB