Dear Friend,
It's been a few months since I received your e-mail asking for advice. I apologize for the delay in responding. Actually I can't recall exactly what your note asked for and it seems that although I have almost unlimited storage capacity I have deleted your e-mail. I'm not sure why I would have done that. I've never been good at apologies. I miss you sometimes when I think about those days or weeks when we did whatever we did together. Today I thought about talking to some of those old associates and I suppose someday I might think about it again. Who knows what tomorrow holds. Even if I did know I'm not certain it would be best to share the information with anyone. Too much liablity and so forth. Unless I'm on vacation--and I never am--I find it's best to be conservative. I don't recall where you moved or why but I hope you have found that thing you sought. I haven't found much of anything. In fact as far as I can tell I am exactly the same person you once knew. But that's not something I ever consider. The past is the past and there's no changing it. There's no changing at all. Thank you for asking about my manuscript. No I never did get it published nor did I try. Those ideas slip away like a fat May fly clinging to the inside of a window pane. It's nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. You are now like a faint sweet melody beyond the range of my hearing. So many other things endure and I've learned to ignore them all. I can barely feel my fingertips touch this surface. Bank interest accumulates silently. The stamp does not require licking. My chair conforms to me. This is the way of things. I wonder if you ever think of me. I wonder what you might think. No matter. I know you couldn't tell me such things even if you needed to tell. That is one thing I know. One thing I remember each day as I do whatever it is that I always do. A tedium of indeterminate duration and no consequence. Accept this lot. That is my advice to you. Everything I know. Dear Friend.
And I am in love.
Sincerely,
"Me"
