The other week when I despaired in the shower of things coming out all right, it was your voice and not my dad's that said "Don't worry dear, everything will work out fine." I was a little taken aback but in a basically good way. I have been thinking of you a lot because the Ian Curtis movie is playing here and I want to go see it soon and I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose my shit in the movie house and cry like a mofo over it, because it's sort of going to be about Ian but it's also going to be about You and Me and a world that hasn't existed any more since about 1987, except that one afternoon at the carriage house on Hessler where we got it back for a few hours, in color, only to have it all vanish again and for good this time. Man, that building isn't even there anymore. I was only there twice but I've never forgotten what it looked like. See, I did love you, there's the proof, if I remember something like that, years and years ago, like it was yesterday. And in some parallel universe we're still living there and I'm still going down to Tremont and walking behind the old library and a million other places that in this life have been torn apart like Love will do.
I don't have the good words right now. My fat old cat is snoring in falsetto like she does. I wish you could hear her, it's funny. I wish a lot of things, and I have a feeling you know every one of them.