November 16

Leaving Vancouver, WA

Dear Susan,

I had a dream last night where I was on a bus made of deli meats and I had to eat my way out. I was wearing the lady’s hat that I stole (I’m still sorry!) but it was fashioned out of saltines. There were your usual amount of escaped zoo creatures and dwarves like in all my dreams, only this time they all spoke Greek. I understood them because of the hat’s magical powers and my extra salt intake. The bus traveled underwater and stopped often for Mormon mermaids bearing wedding gifts. What do you think it means?

Pete

PS I ditched the hat

 

November 16

Portland

Dear Susan,

I made it to Portland where my brother Stu lives. Everyone here calls him “One-Time” because of some bad relationship he had with a woman who had Elephant Man’s disease. Something akin to that. Stu works part-time at a factory that packages energy bars for dogs called Puppy Power. Stu eats them too, practically lives off them. He says that they are “gourmetlicious” and much better than the ones they make for cats. He also says that dogs are the closest creatures to humans which I do not believe for a second even after he sits on my head with a pillow.

Pete

PS I didn’t ditch the hat. Sorry.

 

November 16

Portland

Dear Susan,

Do you hold someone in “high esteem” or “high self-esteem”? Stu says the second one and when I corrected him, he threw a Puppy Power bar at my tender vittles (nicer term for groin area we used when we were little). Then he put on the hat I forgot to return (sorry!) and wouldn’t take it off. He’s got a good 4 inches and 50 pounds on me, so I couldn’t knock it off his head. I know we went into this in our sessions, but I still harbor resentment about Stu bullying me a lot when I was a kid. Seeing him prance around his apartment with my yellow hat on all la-di-da triggered a complicated basket of feelings I had about bullying, our mother, and the time my dad made me go to Saturday mass without pants. I wish I had a wrist rocket. No I don’t. Yes I do. Damn.

Pete

 

November 17

Portland

Dear Susan,

Well, things have gotten pretty bad with Stu. Besides me refusing to eat the Puppy Power bars, Stu and I got crossways last night. He invited some friends over last night for a party and they all got really intoxicated and higher than a giraffe’s anus, as my dad used to say. Being around Stu again brings up lots of bad memories for me. Anyway, they started teasing me and wanted to spin me to play spin the bottle. And other disgusting things involving petroleum based lubricants (allergic!). I said I would but really went into the sewing room and called the cops using Stu’s phone since I never got mine back from that screaming bald woman in Tacoma.

Stu is in county and is pretty steamed.

Pete

 

November 17

Leaving Portland

Dear Susan,

When I was little, we had this dog named Flearoy (Dad named him) and he would scamper into our neighbor’s orchard and eat up all the windfall pears. Then he’d come home and just soak our porch and house with his loose bowels. Dad would get so angry that he’d start throwing glass ashtrays (he had a collection) at Flearoy, Stu, and me. Our sister had already packed up and headed off to Kut and Kolor Akademy by then. Lucky.  Stu’s apartment reminds me of those times.

And yes, I still love pears. Bad memories won’t take that joy away from me.

Pete

 

November 17

Leaving Portland

Dear Susan,

I just remembered. During Stu’s party, one of his friend’s, a lazy-eyed Ginger named Cold Crush said “assassination,” but I thought he said “sassy nation.” Isn’t that funny? It could have been because he was wearing a wool skirt and holding a metal spatula.

Pete

PS No one was doing any cooking that night, get it?

 

November 17

Still Leaving Portland

Dear Susan,

Now I’m thinking maybe I should get a dog. I know what you said about the responsibility of keeping a live animal and how I need to earn back my landlord’s trust after swiping all his lawn gnomes in the dead of night but I think I’m ready, Susan. I’m gonna call him Fleavon after Flearoy and Levon Helm who played the drums like a constipated spaz pumped up on goofballs before he kicked the bucket. And you know that’s a compliment coming from me.

Pete

 

November 17

Nowhere Worth Mentioning

Dear Susan,

I’m coming home. This travelling stuff is for salesman, truck drivers and teen runaways. I have a present for you. Can you guess what it is? It’s yellow and fancy and you can wear it to church.

See you in session.

Pete

PS Do you go to church?