Open letter #4.

Dear al Qaeda,

This really wasn't supposed to be a weekly thing, but it seems it's going to be the weekly thing around here. It's just that I enjoy so much talking to you, and my therapist has been out of town for a couple of weeks, so I needed some kind of release. Oh, therapy is where you pay a stranger to listen to your problems, and they pretend to listen to your problems, and when you make eye contact with them, their eyes quickly dart from the clock behind you to meet your stare, as if they were listening to you all along.

Right now I'm not sleeping very much because of the upcoming move not to the carriage house that apparently still stands intact (are we supposed to boycott it?). I'm anxious about packing everything up, hiring the movers, paying for it, making sure the new apartment has been cleaned, unpacking etc. Blah blah blah, right? Well, I'm not nomadic, like you. In fact, I pretty much loathe change. People would say that's because I'm a Taurus, and, though I am, in fact, a Taurus (no, not a car, an astrological sign), I don't believe in that crap at all. Unless it says that I'm going to be rich by 30 without having to do any sort of work whatsoever. Because, honestly, how many dreams have to die before you get a little relief? I don't want to live big, only comfortably. Anyway, while I'm looking forward to moving, I'm not looking forward to moving, if you know what I mean.

Also, I'm going to miss the West Village. It's not like I lived in a brownstone or anything, but those tree-lined streets are nice. My new street has no trees whatsoever. Only antique shops. So, it's as gay as the West Village, but without the trees. Kind of a letdown, you know? It just didn't seem like we could find anything bigger and affordable in the West Village right now. Which is why I wrote the first letter, if you remember. Thanks for nothing. Wait, you do have translators, don't you? 'Cause I don't know nothin' about Arabic except that it's read from right to left, like Hebrew, which I can read but don't understand.

Clearly you haven't helped me because I'm gay and Jewish. That's two strikes against me, I know. But I'm only a practicing gay. The Jew thing doesn't suit me. Maybe it's because of the 9,000 hours I spent learning to read and not understand Hebrew. I was Bar Mitzvahed, and I totally resent it. I don't hate Jews, and I don't think Jews should die. I don't think anyone should die. But I don't really consider myself a Jew. Hopefully that's clear. I can't do anything about the gay thing. But I'm not addicted to crystal meth, so maybe that's representative of my strong will power or the fact that I wouldn't know what to do with crystal meth if it were sitting on my desk in front of me.

Look, who am I trying to persuade here. You can't do anything for me anymore. The time has come and gone. But I'll be in touch because I like to finish what I begin. And, boy, that whole tsunami thing really put 9/11 into perspective, didn't it? You got your ass kicked by wind and water, dudes. Back to the drawing boards, huh?

All my love,
Matt

P.S. When you send your next video, could you put something behind bin Laden so I know you're at least reading these letters? Like a picture of a Smurf or one of those anti-crystal meth posters on all the phone booths in Chelsea?