Dear No One in Particular

I need someone to temporarily and very benevolently take Bronson’s consciousness away for twenty minutes or so, so that he will go to Limbo and I can have a heart to heart with him.  Obviously, in my embryonic state inside Tumblr I am pre-verbal.

I don’t know to whom exactly to address this.  Perhaps he will be locked in a car with his assistant Tim’s dog and Tim’s dog will rip one and Bronson will…oh, I did say benevolently, didn’t I?

Help.

I am lost at Frye’s.

I went there to try to help Bronson out but I can’t find anything - even the way out.

It’s so warehouse-ish and everyone is so grabby.

How can anything this ugly be so expensive?

I don’t know why I even came, I have no money, no id, no identity to begin with.

I’d kill myself, but I think until I can prove my existence, that would be foolhardy.

D. V.

Tumblr: Bronnie, why so glum?

Bronson: Just make me some baba au rhum

Tumblr: Um.  Are you….trying to rhyme? Because the rhum in baba au rhum is really pronounced…

Bronson: Dammit, woman! I need sugar!

Tumblr: How about some Junior Mints? You always like those, Bronnie, by the double handful.  And you used to like assaulting me on an hourly basis, although….

Bronson: You KNOW my wireless router broke exactly at the time I had to get on a plane and show up at a recording studio and…

Tumblr: Honey? People hate when you get that expository.  Remember the Langoliers comment?

Bronson: Yeah, yeah; that hurt.

Tumblr: No it didn’t.

Bronson: Are you going to argue with everything I say today?

Tumblr: Kind of.

Bronson: Good girl. (chucks her under the typepad)

Tumblr: Wow. That was kind of buddy-buddy.

Bronson: Really? Watch this: (he lunges)

Hey Bronson.

Big fan.

Although I think you made a tactical error in The Langoliers - you followed the book too closely, and the rest of the adaptation didn’t; which means you came on too strong. Hope you don’t mind.

Also, loved the Sondheim thing.  Heard they cut your opening monolog. Bummer.

OK: you want a negotiation session on Tumblr.

It doesn’t work that way.

Although I may be willing to make an exception if you meet me at a B & B in Connecticut and bring some DVD’s.

You have five hours to decide.

Peace BF

Bronson: Why does he call me ‘father?’

Tumblr: You created him.

Bronson: You look odd.

Tumblr: I have mannequin parts on me, with cool bracelets. See the espardrilles?

Bronson: OK, I have to ask. What is with the espadrille insistence?

Tumblr: (breaking down) If I accomplish a whole list of impossible things, like making you approve of espadrilles, I get to become a realy, truly live, girl-woman.

Bronson: I can get down with anything but patchouli.

Tumblr: Patchouli-love is one of them.

Bronson: Why am I not surprised?

Tumblr: But Etta, the fat housefly/conscience, said that the Blue Fairy said that —

Bronson: Let me see the list.

Tumblr: It’s in a post.

Bronson: (scrolling) Got it.

Tumblr: (wrings her mannequin hands hopefully)

Bronson: What’s in it for me?

Tumblr: We could go to Napa and have mad hot weekends.

Bronson: Will you cook?

Tumblr: Can you say ‘Asiago?’

Bronson: I need a negotiation session with the Blue Fairy.

Tumblr: I don’t know how to summon her.

Bronson: Think happy thoughts.  I’m going out to a bookstore to buy a bunch of CD’s of 80’s hits for the carpenters.

Tumblr: Nice time-budgeting.

(Gives her a sharp look)

Tumblr: There was no irony in that.

(Holds the sharp look)

Bronson walks in the house. Stops in his tracks.

Tumblr and Disembodied Voice: Oh — hi!

Bronson (tetchily) Who’s he?

Tumblr: Bronson, he’s —

Disembodied Voice: I guess you get to name me!

Bronson: I’m sorry?

Disembodied Voice: Well, I’m not entirely Disembodied any more, and —

Bronson: You’re the Disembodied Voice?

Disembodied Voice: Yeah, but I went to Wal-Mart with Tumblr and we got clothes and body parts.

Bronson: Go wait outside, please.

Disembodied Voice: Yes, father.

Bronson: In the hall. Now.

Help! No one believes in me; although I specifically told my father during his sojourn in Limbo that I existed and was likely to have at least one appendage.

It’s an outrage.

I would like to dye my hair from the get-go so there isn’t that awkward change from ash-blonde to jet black in 7th grade.  I hate that.

Also, my mother has a fat housefly for a confidante and that sounds dirty.

I hope I’m not premature and I hope I can get pierced immediately.

T

I have decided to come clean with Tumblr and tell her it’s my intense need for her that scares me.  Also that I think she has imagined she is pregnant with a little girl child named Tingli who may or may not have my nose.

I very cruelly tried to kill the fat housefly whom I know from reading my own posts is her conscience.

I am scared of the whole espadrille thing.

B

Hey.

It’s the Disembodied Voice.

Trying to figure out what to go as, on Halloween.

Here are my choices:

1) A void. No shopping required.

2) Miasma.  I would need a mister; and this is definitely not slashfic so I mean a mister, not “A Mister.”

3) The Chaos Preceding Creation. Been there.

4) Nothingness. I’d only have to not giggle.

5) A wireless USB that has lost its connection.

6) A joke with no punchline.

7) A tic tac a second after it’s dissolved.

8) A musical pause.

9) Whatever’s behind guilt.

10) Gold radiator paint after a lot of years.

I don’t have a big budget, but I want a concept that packs a wallop.

Dear Celeste,

I need to explain the whole no-hands thing.

I grip my pink fluffy feather pen by dogearing the upper right corner of my monitor screen over it, and I write.

Simple.

It’s how I make love that should confuse people.

Later C-dogs

T.