An open letter from an old friend.

Dear Tankboy,

Remember when you were interesting? Not that we're wholly complaining, since lots of what you write still amuses us and, occassionally, even informs us, but remember when you were actually interesting? Maybe it's because you used me more. Maybe growing up, working the nine to five and working at a relationship causes me to shrink, atrophy, and constrict my output. Or maybe you're just not the young maverick you once were.

Remember when you would openly mock hippy-drippy or pseudospritual idealism, only now you actually find yourself a little jealous of the unoored mind that makes such beliefs possible. And by this you don't mean that you live completely trapped in a world ruled totally by logic, only that your world is no longer rooted in the belief that Ayn Rand had it right, or Bukowski saw things no one else did, or that Tarot cards work, or that there really IS a Santa Claus, Virginia.

You remember how your friend recently asked you how it felt to be a grown-up; after the two of you stopped mid-conversation because you both realized you were talking about painting bedrooms instead of cavases, and picking up compost containers instead of girls?

We can't say all of these developments have been bad. We understand that you weren't always going to be the crazy libertine who occupied both the day and the night worlds. We realize that you're probably better informed about the world around that you have ever been before. We appreciate that these are all actually positivie indicators of inner growth and we resepct that. We're not asking you to change.

All we're asking is that maybe, in the midst of all this, you find ways to exercise us and push our boundaries again. You don't have to put your arm through a window, or snog a bunch of birds (said shagging would of course take place after reading some UK author since any other time you'd be less pretentious and just call it "making out with girls"), or sleep three hours a day for fear of missing anything anymore in order to get a good story. Part of growing up is losing a bit of the outer lunacy and allowing that lunacy to regroup in the form of a rampant imagination.

It's time to stop analyzing and start questioning again. We know you can do it. We have faith in you.

Love,
Yr Brain