Heart the Bland Love Letters
From Intermittent Wiki
Love Letters recovered from emails around a "failed" (
failed? 
) (failed!?) Heart the Band project circa November 2006:
(These letters were partially included in the artwork for think words freak freak grasp.)
Dear Beth,
Someday we will live together on the coast of Maine, walking down long rocky beaches on misty bays. We'll cuddle and hold hands and we'll make pottery and garden together. But you already knew all that. So instead, I'm writing to you about now. About how you called me today to talk to me about the love letters instead of our actual love. And that we've never ever actually hung out together. OK, that's a lie. But it was too short and a while ago. And we were drinking bad beer, so next time we'll drink something better. I have a picture of it on my cell phone. And of me.
Jon
Dear Bauer,
I took a picture of you in Antwerp and you were reading something in the lobby of a theater. I think about that photo sometimes. We were waiting to go to some panel discussion about performance. I left after the first speaker and went to the museum. I wish I had stayed, stayed with you on Lemonier, but I left and went to Vienna instead. That was the last time I saw you. OK, that's a lie. I'll run for president if you'll be my first lady and together we'll negotiate middle eastern peace from the comfort of camp david (sometimes I wear my Eleanor shirt to bed).
Jon
Dear Chase,
I accidently called your mom tonight after midnight. She wasn't mad though. You don't get mad at me either, which is nice. I remember the first time that we hung out you were showing me videos and my landlord's five year old was running around my apartment and you wanted to show a video where you were nude for part of it and I said you couldn't until danny left. All of my hard drives crashed that afternoon and I lost a lot of my university video projects. Maybe it was a sign. You got me started on real beer. Real real beer.
Jon
Dear Chris,
We are already practically married. All we need is a maid because neither of us are so good at that part. And we need to fight more often, but that's hard because we're always so damn Pisces about everything. The next step is to start sharing clothes, but we are different sizes and I guess actually dress pretty differently. I'll always remember drinking champagne and watching Barry Manilow videos at 2 in the morning after driving 12 hours from new york.
Jon
Jon,
i remember when we napped on the wood floor of your old apartment on Eckford. our heads were close and our bodies extended out in a V. we had both showered and our hair was wet. the sun was going down and i was exhausted. when we woke we stayed on the floor and talked. i love you. beth
Chris,
i remember that bright red room in Durham, where you slept that summer. we napped together during the day on top of your unmade bed. you were laying near the wall and i was looking out into the bedroom, our heads facing away from each other. it feels like so long ago. i love you. beth
Chase,
i remember sitting in my bedroom at my desk by the open window with you on my bed. you were trying to avoid my three footed cat because you're allergic. we were writing together then. everything was new. i miss those times. i love you. beth
Eleanor,
i remember the time that i slept over in your dorm on 7th street. your bed was propped up about 3ft or so, and you made me a little bed beneath it with your sheets and pillows and comforter. i slept beneath you that night, and woke in the morning to the sun around your bed. i love your comforter. i slept so well then. i miss you. i love you. beth
DEAR CHRIS You reming me of my jeep. You remind me of a girl that I once knew. You remind me of all the things that are worth saying yes to. I pine for you in my forest, the one I have never been to at the end of the yellow 55 tram line. Jon went there once. You can ask him. It has no pine trees, That is why it needs you. But also, to me you are in many ways a genuis, which, in many ways, has alot to do with forests. I shouldn't have to explain that to you. I think you understand, in many ways. LOVE IN MANY WAYS, ELEANOR
DEAR JON I feel safer when you drive. I feel louder when you speak. I feel sadder when you cry. I feel better when you eat. I feel farther away from you writing you this letter. I feel closer to you less and less. The days are numbered but also lettered. This one is called 0x2764, the first one was called Love, and the first one is just like the last one. And all the ones in-between better be like the first and the last one for at least a moment, or else what's the point in living, because all you ever really have is one. One day, man. That's called love. YES, ELEANOR
DEAR CHASE Yourr minnd is likke a bbox of jewwels, butt allso thee oppositte. Yoou arre tthe devvil's avvoccaddo. Youur gollden apple is aa boomerang. I havve a frriend who readds too mmuch Merleau-Pontty (maybe like you read too much performance theory) and hhe says that we (humans, we) cannot actually see deppth, beccause we cann never see behinnd tthe visibble. Susann Sontagg prossecutes the crittic wwho is allways digging behindd thhe vissible inn orrder too reeveal itts 'truue' meanning. Yourr haair emboddies and suppercedes all of thhis. Itt is aan exxttennssion of yyour braiin butt allso yourr hearrt, nneither of whhich arre visiblle too mme. Shhave your heead annd makke me a sweatter. REALLY. LOVE, ELEANOR
DEAR BETH, I had a dream about you last night. You and other people but you especially. This is not an uncommon thing for someone I 0x2764 so much and so dearly. I loved you in the dream like I [heavy black heart] you in Reality Reality, except nobody was watching or writing about it in the dream, because the dream was only reality, not relaity twice. You looked at the pictures on my wall and said, "Is this your room or mine?" and I understood it as a comment on the composition of the wall hangings more than the content. You recognized yourself in the way I arranged things. This is an important kind of kinship. It's like planets lining up. I miss you. LOVE FOREVER, ELEANOR
Dear beth
Once a pon a time we were like brother and sister. Me the big brother you the lil sis. Now that we have gone to war and fought dragons we have become friends for better or worse.
Love
Chase
Beer jon
Yes we have enjoyed many a fine beers together and many more to comeÖ some fine germans brews hopefully. If I believed in the concept of ìbestî I might consider you my best friend. Not sure if that is mutual. But close enough. Thanks for helping my mom.
Love
Chase
Hidy ho chris
I first heard you playing lound crazy music at the joyce soho. Then I saw you and went up to you at bam at a forsythe performance. Never imagined we would be were we are now. We our each others teachers or something like that. Sometimes I want to hate you but I cant.
With love
Chase
Dear eleanor
Funny I have known you the longest of everyone but in many ways I know you the least. Funny how things happen. You live in brussel sprouts. I wonder when you will come to the big apple again? we embody love/hate. Maybe is some ways we are too similar. My conceptual friend. Donít read too much its not good for you. Donít be too smart either cause it hurts.
Love
chase
hart star 2 the max, yo!
h-h-h-hart! so, what does this meeen? we'all have to write luv letter to each other? all of 'em?
deer eleanor,
yur texts drive me wild in my e-box. evnen't ifnt wus not for der distant condition and wsn't. win ich hink of you, i sss ss s s s sppppp/s get alllllllllll confused. pleeeease send sonnn sum fotos pleeeease.
thanzaalk thanx, ande e e exa e x extrra luv, c
deer chase,
the ghost of your is present everywhere in my routine. it's like everyone is pretending to be you, but is too stiff and robot like. i can't stand it. i can't stand it. please return to your default please. there's nothing else i can do but pretend.
love, chris
deer beth,
i's too deep, and there's no way out. the vortex is too much like the creaking floor of fireworks and rattling domesticity. new jersey isn't real. clamper is lost and the rustling means nothing. war doesn't sound. the reality of closing wouldn't catch our timing anyhow.
but what i was trying to say is: slap the trainscrap, willlya, buddy? with a distant "beep" and a half-bloated filling?
or just something more sincere instead?
love, chris
deer jon,
there's jus too much to spray!. wordsss aren't enuf! you're like my stew brutha! bacon sliver fowl detective. maggnet deflective mirror steadclamor. but less, and more in a a a a a lessssssssss wau, right?
right? cus cousins aren' t fudge, and what slurping cowboy could confuse slots with treacle?
slap the pill poppers for me good old! love,chris
[edit] P.S. from ELEANOR
p.s. those letters really got me. they got me bad. you all are beautiful. and also what we did was beautiful. i hope that our love letters can go on and encourage more things like that more often. let us go on and be love warriors, let us conquer darkness with our (p)light. yes.
