Hi. How are you? I am fine. Let me tell you about the longings you inspire in me.
Stop this now.
You can’t be here: I’m writing a letter.
You are contributing evidence to a restraining order.
I LOVE HER, MAN. She makes my heart sing; she makes my heart soar; she makes my heart skip a beat, and my left arm tingle, and my breath get short.
You’re not healthy.
In any way.
Grey-haired doobie-ladies do it for you?
They do, yes.
Your tastes are getting very specific.
I was the only boy on my block with an Emmylou Harris poster over his bed.
Stop all of this.
LOVE ME BACK, TRIXIE!
Go watch your space movie.
Do you know that Trixie’s real name is “Illusionsie?”
Shut the fuck up.