"Dear Prudence" by Amanda Grieme

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Dear Sammy... Fair Weather

3/17 - Fair Weather

Dear Sammy -

So many times I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and say hello, but to no avail. It’s St. Patrick’s Day and snowy, two of your favorite things wrapped into one day. Man, the fun we used to have; St. Patty’s Day used to be an excuse to drink way too much Guinness, and heaps of Jameson. I recall that you made it your mission to drink yourself into Irish oblivion, and I was always right there with you. You were always such a good buddy to me Sammy, and I hope that you’re doing fine. I bet that you are. I heard that you are a chef at the Stone Bar Inn; What a gorgeous job for you. It’s the perfect combination of creative and scientific.

Sammy, thanks for rolling with my punches; your relaxed attitude must have helped you deal with my bizarro behavior all of those years that we lived together in college. I didn’t realize how strange my behavior was until just recently, when I started to sober up mentally, a bit. When I think of the things that you witnessed, I commend you even more for being my friend. For instance, how about the time that I snapped when we were out drinking at "The Wheel," and I punched some big, tall football type guy across the face, because I had some delusion that he raped the girl standing in front of him. Remember that? Then he freaked out on me, and was thrown out of the bar. Do I have that right? The band stopped and announced, “Real cool, buddy. Way to threaten a chick. Get that guy out of here.” But you believed my delusion, supported me, and we moved onto another watering hole that was safe.

Oh, and I am sure that you can’t forget the time that I locked myself in my closet, crying late night, and I cannot remember if you called my parents, or if I did, but my dad showed up at my door at 2:00 am to help me. Remember? He was wearing a Burger King crown. That’s my dad!

I used to have so much fun with you Sammy, Mini, and Briann, Violet, Dewey and Kevin, and countless others that graced the palatial hovel that we resided in. I often think of all of you, and swim through drunken memories to a time when everything seemed strangely...okay. But Sammy, that was just the tip of the iceberg for me. Since I disappeared, I can only describe the way that I feel as not unlike Lavinia, Shakespeare’s "Titus Andronicus’" daughter, who was violently raped by two brothers Chiron and Demetrius, who cut out her tongue and cut off her hands so she couldn’t give the crime away. That is what this bipolarity sometimes feels like; I’ve been raped of my ability to communicate, and some facet of it has instilled me with the fear of speaking to those I once loved to share life with.

It’s creepy, but I’m actively trying to find my way out of here. Maybe next St. Patty’s Day I’ll meet you at the bar for a Guinness.

Love, Ana

Please check out a really cool, sick and twisted version of "Titus Andronicus"...upper right margin.

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