12. Dear Sasha

Dear Sasha,
I took Bucky for a walk just now (that's my dog; you'll meet him soon) and was thinking about post-modern theory (like where does reality exist and for what peoples? and is death just like birth in the sense that it's just a dropping out of an experience you've known as the only experience? Etc., etc.) and then checked my email to see if you'd written at all (I'm losing hope, I think, but what does it mean that I still check my email constantly?) and the only mail in there was spam and I wondered why it was all sexy sex spam (I mean I just don't get the appeal there) and worried for all the old people who know how to use email. The old people, when they see sexy sex spam, what do they think? Don't they get really embarrassed? Do they blush and pretend they didn't see it? Do they treat it like pooping in the toilet - flush and don't look? I feel so bad for old people and kind-of hope none of them actually get addicted to email, like me, waiting for anyone to write back, like you, because it just forces me to deal with all the SPAM.

S.

p.s. Bucky says hi. He already responds to the sound of your name with a little perky ear flapping.