A Letter to Arithmetic

Dear Math,

I don't like you, and I never have. I often ask God himself why, on earth, would he ever have allowed you to come into existence. I equate you alongside mosquitoes. To me, you are disease ridden and blood sucking. You take the sun from my sky and the blood from my vein, and for that, I don't like you.

But I do respect you, as paradoxical as that may seem. I have no choice but to admire you. You're so consistently neutral about everything! It's like you haven't a care in the world, and maybe on some level I envy that, and so I respect you, but not enough to do much with you except use you for your talent, and then leave you, as far from my mind as possible. The only thing we have between us, math, is physical.

I don't want a reunion. When I left you in grade 11, I left you for good, and I won't ever go back. There were too many late nights and too many early mornings. There was too much stress and too much damn WORK in our relationship, and for that I won't forgive you. Sure, people said we were good together, but they didn't know how I truly felt. So no, I don't want to get back together with you, I like our arrangement the way that it is.

Cold.

Hard.

Calculating. Just the way you like it.

We'll see who wins in the end of this little relationship. You never had any love for me, let's face it, and now I'm just returning the favor.

Sincerely not yours,
blog.alan.schram

A Letter to Falling Frozen Precipitation

Dear Snow,

Greetings! It has been some time since we last met. I do believe you were in the final stages of death, and my merciless boots aided in your demise. What can I say? After you've been around for a couple of months, I get quite sick of you.

Anyways, seeing as it has been so long since we last hung out, I have no problem with your current presence. Just know that you should really learn the social signals given to you when it is time for you to leave. You're like a poor uncle, pillaging the coffers my parents worked so hard to fill for us children. You're welcome to come, but you're even more welcome to leave.

Sincerely yours,
blog.alan.schram

A Letter to George H.W. Bush (Sr.)

Dear President Bush,

Greetings, Mr. President Sr. I must admit that I am not used to speaking with one who was once in such a position of power. I am sure that your time is valuable, and as such, I will be brief.

I have heard rumour that you were tried and convicted of war crimes during the Gulf War. This makes me wonder what your son is doing over there as well, also being accused of war crimes. Is he finishing what you started? Is he righting your wrongs? I am confused, Mr. President, and I would like some answers.

Sincerely yours,
blog.alan.schram

P.S.

http://www.alternet.org/story/68843/

A Letter to The Communicative Device, Letters

Dear Letters,

Thank you for being so awesome. There's nothing quite like finding you in my mailbox.

I must admit, sometimes you can be quite hard to deal with. You are not the easiest method of communication I've tried to get along with recently, but let me tell you, when I do set time aside to spend with you, I do enjoy it. There's just so much about you that I like. I like your form factor. The greeting, the salutation, something about it just rings true in my heart. I always know where you stand, who you're from, and where you're going. I simply love the clarity of your thought.

I also love your past, letters. You have been the one consistent long range method of transporting thought. You've been a part of church history, you've helped make Lewis famous, and you've brought tidings of war and peace. That's another thing that makes you so special, letters. You are so capable of conveying such a range of thought and emotion. You've done everything. You've told a wife that she's become a widow. You told ordinary people that they've become jurors, or are being audited. You transported my childhood sweetheart's love into my bedroom with me. For that, you are quite indispensable.

So for that reason, dear letters, I must apologize for ignoring you of late. I don't write with you, and I should. I've been an adulterer, flirting and flaunting with the pornographic electronic version of you.

Please know, that e-mail will never replace you letters. Not in my heart, anyways.

Sincerely yours,

blog.alan.schram