AN OPEN LETTER TO
MY ABILITY TO LOSE INTEREST
IN THINGS EASILY.
July 11, 2005
Dear Ability to Lose Interest in Things Easily,
Hey, hey, look at me, look at me. I'll try to make this quick for you. I wasn't going to bring this up, because you always seem so happy trying new things, but this is getting ridiculous. I can't afford all this. If you want to play drums, hey, cool, but play them more than three times. It's like you forgot they were there. And why did you get a keyboard? And don't tell me it's because you got tired of the guitar—that's not going to work with me, mister. Here's the thing: I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you're not very musically talented, and by "very" I mean "at all." Maybe if you stuck with one of them you wouldn't be so mediocre at all of them.
Listen, over here, hello! No, I don't know what that bird outside is doing. Focus, all right? Throw your yo-yo and juggling balls away. The only time those things are touched is when I move them to a new apartment. Which brings me to my next point. Why do we move every year? Just once I would like to not have to move. It's always, "Let's try this neighborhood, the apartments are cooler here, this way we don't have to clean it." I'm sick of it, Ability to Lose Interest in Things Easily.
When we were kids—God damn it, quit playing Minesweeper; you're never going to beat my score—when we were kids, it made sense to be like this, but we're 25 and a half now. It's time we don't take Grandma's favorite calligraphy pen and never learn how to properly use it. And maybe you should listen to all of the Spanish language CDs I bought you, not just the first one. No, I'm not going to buy you Polish on CD, at least not until you learn Spanish.
Look, maybe this is none of my business—your love life is your love life—but damn, why don't you call people back? I don't know if that's the same bird. How would I know that? I guess you could call the park district and join a bird watchers' club, but hey, just listen. You go out with someone a couple times and then you just stop calling them. That's fucked up. It takes two weeks for you to get bored of someone. Remember the waitress? Shit, man, some people would love to go out with a waitress. You play two rounds of phone tag and that's it. There's no effort. Why do you think you're alone? Oh, yeah, it's "by choice." Pathetic.
Son of a bitch, quit looking stuff up on the Internet. No one just e-mailed you in the last five minutes, OK? No, I didn't know the average yearly rainfall in Seattle is 36.2 inches. No, we're not moving there. You've never owned an umbrella. I suppose we would grow our hair out if we moved there. Maybe we do need a trim, though ... Fuck, listen to me.
Yeah, I know, those crosswords are hard. I never finish them, either. Damn, you're doing it again, Ability to Lose Interest in Things Easily. This is pointless. Call me when you get some focus. I'm going to go check out that bird.