Dear 302

You are an unfit human being. Anyone as stupid, rude and self absorbed as you should not be allowed to live in close habitation with actual people. I despise you on my own behalf because your ignorance wrecks my Saturday evenings - EVERY SINGLE WEEK! I, however, am living here at no cost and will stay no longer than the middle of October. Therefore I particularly loathe you on behalf of the poor moron who just paid a quarter of a million dollars to own a residence above yours. No one should have to pay that kind of money to live this close to a chod like you.

I have a wager going with some friends that in ten years this manufactured environment posing as a neighbourhood will be a ghetto. You are one of the main ingredients that will lead to that degraded state of being. No one who wants to have an actual home - as opposed to a place to stow their stuff - will want to live near someone like you and the population of this building will become increasingly transient as property values plummet. I sincerely hope that you find yourself unable to realize the original investment you made on your condo so that the normal people around you will not be the only ones to suffer from your mindlessness.

Sincerely
402

Telling Stories to Myself

I am first and foremost - a raconteur. Every since I was little I've been recognized by friends and family - people who in years to come, lost the ability to see me at all - as a story teller. They talked for years about the novel I would write. I grew up thinking that I was meant to be a famous writer. When I was 13 I wanted to be Richard Brautigan, when I was 15 I wanted to be Emily Bronte. I've lost track of the writers I've idolized since then. I used to think, shit if I could just shut up and write this stuff down I'd have my novel. Friends began carrying paper and pencil on my behalf. I got one of those funny little voice recorders. It did not stop me from telling my story to anyone who would listen. I have honed my craft on every single event that has ever occurred in my life - good, bad, benign or terrifying, everything that has ever happened to me I have shaped into a story. I lie awake at night telling myself the story of my day. I tell it and retell it; polish it; edit it; perfect it. When I tell somebody what happened to me today (or any day) the story I am telling has grown through several revisions. All of it will be true, even if parts of it never happened. And as I tell the story, I am watching my audience. I gauge their reaction. I change my pacing, possibly make a wild digression, maybe cut it short, or ad lib in some way. I will do whatever it takes to keep them listening. The next time that I tell this story, and every time after that it will have altered subtly based on the reactions I get.

Commercials

It's a really good idea to pay close attention to television advertising. If you're exposed to it at all you run the risk of infection unless you are vigilant at every moment. The most dangerous are those for the big ticket items like cars and houses. Car advertising in particular is at a disadvantage in the game. Pretty much all they've got is lifestyle and the attendant self image. Recently though, they've started to mimic personal items like cosmetics, clothing and medication by creating 'syndromes' that can only be cured by a particular car. Boredom apparently being the biggest one.  Bored with your life? your job? We've got a car for that!