'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

epistolarity, of a sort

Dear Maud,

Okay, I'm having a kind of a hard time with it tonight. Yeah, that it. I mean, you've got that crazy huge full moon out there, with the eclipse coming in the wee hours, and I may be all hormonal, too, for all I know---would you recommend, Maud, charting my temperature, as I sometimes consider doing? Might beat supposin' I'm synched up with some other women whose cycles I occasionally hear tell of. But w/e, dear Maud--- I appeal to you for something, I know not what. Not relief. I don't know what the hell I want. Do you? You know everything. So give me a hint that way, maybe? I mean, some other hint that way?

It's not as if I'm not happy for what I've got. You know I am. And that really gets me through, most the time. And, while I'm at it, it was also, if much more mundanely, quite good of you to up & fix the glitchy DVD overnight so's I could watch the rest of my movie. And thanks for Queen Latifah, too---for real. She's somethin'. But, Maud, it ain't easy sometimes. As you know. You damn it.

Yes, I knew from just about the git-go this was gonna be part of the deal. And I didn't care. And I don't care. I mean, I'd still take the deal, of course. Duh. But sometimes I think it may have the power to tear me apart.

Wonder what kind counselor would say. You know that too, don't you, Maud. Fat lotta good that does me.

Oh, Maud, why dost thou thus torment thy humble nonservant?

-- Small Potatoes, Big Heart

[now write back, Maud or helpful impersonator of Maud, à la Dear Abby or her sister Ann, and be lj-anonymous & I won't even look at your IP address, even if the IP address of a divine being would probably be worth millions, somehow or another, I mean this is the U-nighded States of the U. S. of A.]

[and i repeat:  oh, Maud... ]

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