Dear T —

The last letter reminded me.

I often think about acting and voice lessons. First, to understand. Second, for work. I present a lot.

I work at the top advertising agency in NYC. Why? Same creative process as film making. Also, money.

I wonder what my “character” would be/do/want/feel? I hate when actors play themselves — but I totally would.

My traits: calm – kind – comic – quirky – quick. (Yes?) My motivation: To love someone deeply, fully, magically — like in the movies!

I’ve had this argument with my other bestie, W, for years: Do people change? (If they can, should they?)

She said no; I said yes. She won. Yet I only understood later when I got this advice:

 —Become who you are.

(Passing this on as a reminder to myself.)

It took time to get this, let alone to live it. How to explain?

-Imagine a precious stone you need to scrub, chip clean, then polish.

-Take some Neapolitan ice cream, let it melt some, then mix it till it turns that pretty grey/brown/pink.

-Remember a landscape you saw. Did you think even for a second —But for those trees…?

T, we are a chaotic perfection.

What’s within

-Acknowledge, compassionately

-Accept, unconditionally

-Celebrate, unequivocally

Love yourself with constant wonder — from shore to shore, to the moon and back — and keep people near you who reflect your light back to you.

It’s a miracle you are who you are. It’s a miracle you are.

(For half my life I hated myself — that’s another letter — and if I could undo it all, I would in an instant.)

I sound like a fortune cookie. I actually wrote a story about fortune cookies. One of my favorite stories…

BACK TO SCENE — I did act in high school once. Hamlet, for English, two scenes. Nailed it, lol.

When you say and believe the words, it transforms you — like a spell, or Harry Potter spectacles. It reveals you. Heals you?

So that the joke’s not all on me, I asked S for one. She keeps a Rolodex of jokes. (Not joking.) I didn’t tell her why, so see how perfect this is?

—How many potatoes does it take to kill an Irishman?

(Punchline in P.S.)

— Your D

P.S. —None.

P.P.S. And that syllabus… I love learning—

(La,Ca)

Dear T —

I feel like I haven’t written you a real letter in awhile.

I don’t know what I mean by real.

Everything I have written you lately has been real, achingly so — like the pain in my side whenever I have to edit something!

Maybe by real I mean long.

In the coffee shop (again) today. There’s a playground alongside it.

Almost everywhere I’ve lived has been near school bells or church bells, or both. Accidentally.

Hearing children playing in a schoolyard goes great with your morning coffee, anything, really.

It is the sound of nothing wrong, everything right, playing things out. The minor leagues of acting?

We should play/act everything out.

I was almost…a grade school teacher, high school English teacher, priest (not that close), counselor, photographer, chef…

It takes plenty of almosts and time.

They never leave you. Nothing is lost.

I’m almost exactly what I’ve dreamed of now — maybe I am already.

You shall be, too.

(People never use shall properly!)

I want to be one more thing; it’s the combination of many things. I want to be that most of all.

(^^ That’s real.)

Every day is one day fewer.

An ex’s best friend’s fiancé dumped her and said —Making you happy is making me miserable.

(lol)

Mistake number one: Never try to make anyone happy. Just love them, as they are.

Which reminds me, I had to think about your question: How much love is enough love?

The answer is, Who knows?

That’s why you have to love people a little too much, just to be sure.

— Your D

P.S. I still owe you a real letter!

Dear T —

I have at least four unfinished letters for you. All will come.

Writers make things up. This is beautiful because it’s real.

Last night, I watched a star. It climbed so high. I thought, that’s her. If I keep sight of her, keep following her, I won’t get lost.

(Cheesy, but the moon is made of cheese.)

It’s real, the ask that turns your life upside down. (Consider building an ark.) It speaks to you, and you put everything down, and say —Yes, I will come.

We do because it makes perfect sense.

So, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. I say, yes. Yes I will. Yes. YES. YES!

If you were any other person I’d be afraid you’d think I was crazy, but I know you won’t. You aren’t any other person. You are exactly who you are supposed to be.

Every once in a while you see a couple. They seem … ethereal — like they are floating through life in a world all their own. Will that be us?

(Will you build an ark with me?)

None of this is what I’d planned to say.

Perfect, don’t you think?

— Ever D

P.S. Do you have any plans on August 10th?

(La,Ca)

Dear T —

People visit the The Bay Area and say —I left my heart in San Francisco.

I came to Taipei but left my heart in —–.

So I have to go to —– soon, to get it back.

Actually…I’ll leave it there, for just awhile.

It will do more good there, and someone will keep it well for me.

At least I didn’t lose my luggage.

— Ever D

(Tp,Tw)

Dear T —

On this trip, I have seen people I will never see again in this life, and I’ve talked to people I will never talk to again in this life, and it’s driving me crazy.

My favorite book ends with the lines —Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody. Damn if that isn’t the truth.

In fact, the more you tell them, the more you miss them.

That’s why I wrote you this letter.

— Ever D

(Tp,Tw)

Dear T —

I have so much to tell you…

(I hope you have a crack^* in you, otherwise you might burst.)

I have only a moment now, but it belongs to you.

Last night, I had omakase behind the golden glow of a door in a narrow, dark alley. Typical, resplendent.

Upon entering, the hostess standing just inside bowed and arose:

She was the double of Kim Min-hee — to the strand of her hair to the brush of her voice. It seemed I had suddenly stepped into a film by Hong Sang-soo.

So I sat, for hours, eating nigiri pulled from the display case at Harry Winston’s and drinking sake poured from a clear, copious brook:

Smiling in my heart where reality and imagination tenderly embrace.

Truly, the world is as soft as lace.

— Ever D

^*Important safety feature

P.S. I know I get carried away sometimes. It comes from a good place though.

(Tp,Tw)