Sorry I didn't respond to your email,
I keep becoming totally stunned with the wave of correspondence that my life now entails. I keep wanting, in response, to write a love letter to all the friends I’ve ever had. I will never be adequate for this task, so why not fail at it right now.
Some of you aren’t my friends anymore, because I wronged you. I was selfish, spiteful, insecure, I engaged in petty feuds. But to all of you, I did the ultimate wrong, of dispersing you in space and time. In pursuing my small goals, I sequestered some of you in San Francisco, some in Mexico City, some in the past, some in the future. The violence of my perspective dispensed of almost all of you, except for a small shard of your affection, which I held, much later, trembling in the morning, when I remembered your gift, not remembering who it came from. Thank you, I appreciated that.
Where I want you is everywhere, at all times. But only for like an hour or two, so we can get back to our stuff before it gets weird. I’m very fortunate now to live on a large property with my wife where you could all coincide. However, the property is mostly sand. So you could all just come here and stand on the dunes and then scatter again. Would that be a fun way for you, too, to momentarily resist the irresistible swell of complexity, which sends us sprawling on our separate paths?
My love is all I can give. It is in thanks for you, and for what you’ve given me, which I cannot measure. It doesn’t feel sufficient, but sufficing, thankfully, is not its job.
I used to hold parties. I was accused sometimes of being a social climber, and, in a way, maybe I was trying to be a cool guy by establishing a proximity of attractive people making loud noises. But I didn’t have enough guile to really exploit that in any way. I was also just too busy being taken with the simple beauty of watching people effloresce. People are more okay with being observed in their efflorescence when you get them drunk and give them burgers. You can just kind of stroll around and gawk. Which is what I’d like to do with you. Just observe the immensity of you for a moment or two.
Some of you I’ve seen for the last time. Probably most of you, given that I’m so far-flung. Regardless, I want you to meet our children. We don’t have them yet, we probably will during the next 2-6 years, but we can’t guarantee it, we’re not the ones who make the rules or guarantees. Some of you may pass from existence before these potential children enter it. I apologize. That, again, is down to us not being the rule-crafting entities here. I can only hope they’ll be as charming as you are. And if you’re not charming right now, that’s okay. That’s the charming part about you, really.