So yesterday I bought a packet of stationery. Another one to go with the myriad of stationery packets and cards and fold-it notes stashed in a guest room dresser drawer. Some were chosen to please a particular person, some just because I liked them and had no freaking idea who to send them to. Only a person with a particular sense of humor would appreciate a card bearing the image of a farmer walking a really big rooster and the caption ‘This man has a huge cock.’
This stationery was nothing like that. Absolutely G-rated. But I digress.
When’s the last time you got a letter, a real letter, in the mail? Not a Visa bill or a Dear Concerned Voter plea for donations, but an honest to goodness I-actually-sat-my-ass-down-to-write-this-because-I-was-thinking-of-you letter? Damn, I miss those things. I miss getting them. I miss writing them. I still buy all these cards and stationery packets thinking I’ll use it someday, but I use less and less because, well, people don’t write back. They email instead. Or send instant messages. So letter writing becomes masturbatory. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but if I’m going to pour my heart out for my own edification, I’ll write in my journal instead.
A favorite aunt got me hooked on stationery at a very young age and I wrote letters to her on it, also to crushes and people who crushed me, love and hate letters, mail I usually never sent but hey, it got it off my chest. One of the later recipients of letters I did send scoffed at my efforts. “Nobody cares about these things,” he sniffed.
“Well, not nobody, just you,” I pointed out. Needless to say, he never got another letter or saw me again. One likes to feel appreciated.
Fancy paper isn’t really necessary. A heartfelt note on Kraft butcher paper or the back of a napkin can work too. As long as it gets the basic point across: I’m thinking of you. Social media messages can all too easily be scrolled past, emails accidentally deleted. You can’t stash them under your pillow. You know the old saying, “Please put that in writing?” Yes, please do. Even if it’s just once in a while. Even if it’s scribbled, crossed out, stained with miso sauce. You might get a letter back from me then
.
You might even get the cock card if you play your cards right. Any takers?
This stationery was nothing like that. Absolutely G-rated. But I digress.
When’s the last time you got a letter, a real letter, in the mail? Not a Visa bill or a Dear Concerned Voter plea for donations, but an honest to goodness I-actually-sat-my-ass-down-to-write-this-because-I-was-thinking-of-you letter? Damn, I miss those things. I miss getting them. I miss writing them. I still buy all these cards and stationery packets thinking I’ll use it someday, but I use less and less because, well, people don’t write back. They email instead. Or send instant messages. So letter writing becomes masturbatory. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but if I’m going to pour my heart out for my own edification, I’ll write in my journal instead.
A favorite aunt got me hooked on stationery at a very young age and I wrote letters to her on it, also to crushes and people who crushed me, love and hate letters, mail I usually never sent but hey, it got it off my chest. One of the later recipients of letters I did send scoffed at my efforts. “Nobody cares about these things,” he sniffed.
“Well, not nobody, just you,” I pointed out. Needless to say, he never got another letter or saw me again. One likes to feel appreciated.
Fancy paper isn’t really necessary. A heartfelt note on Kraft butcher paper or the back of a napkin can work too. As long as it gets the basic point across: I’m thinking of you. Social media messages can all too easily be scrolled past, emails accidentally deleted. You can’t stash them under your pillow. You know the old saying, “Please put that in writing?” Yes, please do. Even if it’s just once in a while. Even if it’s scribbled, crossed out, stained with miso sauce. You might get a letter back from me then
.
You might even get the cock card if you play your cards right. Any takers?