Dear Close Personal Friend, Relative, Work Associate, Invisible Internet Chat Pal or Creditor,

I'm feeling less and less like wanting to be a dead body these days. It's taken awhile, however, and each time I seemed to snap out of it, something dreadful would happen and I'd be right back into the thick of it.

I don't write much here when I feel like that. It's not at all cathartic and can be terribly dull. I complain and gripe, but nothing gets better. The only real result is a litany of reasons for me to feel sorry for myself. Hardly entertaining . I don't even keep personal records of it anymore. I heard somewhere once that one should write down their troubles in order to work through them. Good lord, I have spiral notebook upon spiral notebook of this crap. Reading it is painfully embarrassing and not at all helpful. It was bad advice.

At the risk of hate mail, however, I must say that when I finally do reach the surface of such spells, I feel a sense of superiority over those who pop a pill, or visit the therapist each time they feel a little off. I suppose I derive some strength from the notion that I can pull through this shit by myself. I'm an optimist in a hypochondriac's body.

I rely solely on the words of my father, "You can do anything." And the words of my mother, "For God's sake, get outside yourself!"

Lord, I hated to hear the latter. I thought she was being hateful. Sometimes, however, those words were followed by shopping sprees and heavy plentiful bags from JC Penneys and Sears filled with bell bottoms and tube tops. Those were the 70's you know, and that's how you showed your love then. Bought your daughter clothes.

Regardless, three people love me unconditionally. My mother, my father, my husband. I don't need anything more than that in this world.

Well those three and my potato friend. He loves me too and tells me every day by the way he continues to shoot for the sky. If he can survive my pantry. I can survive anything.

Yes, that's Bertold Brecht and the Wolfman watching over him. Between the two of them and Nixon and the Blessed Virgin, I think I have all bases covered.

There's a lot going on here and I'll get you up to speed as soon as I can. Huge events involving career changes, trips to Connecticut and San Francisco, Berlitz, a move to Boston preceded by an extended stay in Italy, the sea, Pilates and weight loss, The Green Mill, and more.

Until then,

Arrivederci il mio bello amico

P.S. For kicks, try translating, "I like pizza pie" into Italian over at Alta Vista. Then translate it back into English.

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