Letter to mewithoutYou Concert Venue

Dear mewithoutYou Concert Venue,

Thank you for offering your space for an interesting band to play last night. You should know, however, that flashing lights in my eyes does not add to my concert going experience. I’m not talking about a little flash, flash, blink, blink. I’m talking about how every time the band builds to a climax, I’ve got popcorn eyeballs having to stare at the floor or squint the crap out of themselves because of random sweeping can-lights or whatever. I wished I had a hat on. Yeah, looking around you have stoned out hipsters staring through the sun-like laser show but little me after one beer turns into a crinkle-faced anger pot wishing I had some un-dilating drops.

I go to concerts to see and hear so maybe quit it with your crazy spinning ceiling light sabers. They look like they’re alive, sortof. You shouldn’t light up the crowd for the band’s sake. You should light up the band for the audience’s. What if I spilled hot coffee on you while you were trying to mow the lawn? Think about it.

Sincerely,

Eric

Letter to My Screaming Neighbor and her Rotten Child

Dear Neighbor,

Why do you persist in screaming at your dumb kid outside of my apartment door? It happens every day and it makes me mad at you and when I get mad I don’t feel as good as I could be feeling. It compounds with my negative feelings towards the barking dogs and unemployment and family members and makes me want to close the window and put a towel under the door. Well I don’t want to close the window because it’s not hot enough for the air conditioning and your 4-year-old really doesn’t need to be scolded for asking questions about the tile in the hallway. Really. Yeah, he’s a piece of crap kid and he’s got red hair but give him a break when he cries for his dad on the way out the door: you are a raging, ludicrous, failure of a mother, after all.

Have some respect for others when you leave your ridiculous apartment and walk your scummy child down the stairs. Everyone’s hears you and hates you when you don’t.

Your Neighbor,

Eric

Letter to my Teeth, on the Day of their Hurting

Dear Teeth,

Oh teeth, are you listening? Why are you hurting me? I have cleaned you with paste and brush for many, many years. I birthed you from the womb of my gums and now you reject me. Steal my thoughts from precious food. How cold and disgusting you are. How disloyal. How spiteful. Why don’t you just curl up and blacken like dead things. Why couldn’t you just chomp and cut food without shooting, stabbing messages of hurt through my body. You make me hate teeth. You make me eager for old age when I can gum food, my beloved food friends, without you in the way. You make me want an ice skate and a rock.

Teeth, if you had tears, I would like tears to be coming from your eyes if you had eyes.

Your friend,

Eric