Fictional recreation June 6, 1985

 Dear Mary Ann:

I received your card today.

A poorly written letter is currently in the mail to you from a few days ago.

Since you’ve gone, I’ve been working on the enclosed story, based on an event back in 1981, but which I have kept in the closet.

It is a story concurrent with the story about the doll.

This work is fiction, but based on fact, the events warped slightly to encompass a larger view.

Many of the conflict in this tale did not come to a head until just prior to Christmas. But I consolidated them in time to fit this tale.

Fiction is the method of madness I’ve chosen and often it can capture “truth” better than objective reporting can. It can say things we might not otherwise be able to say openly. In this case, I kept the story locked up until I felt it was safe.

The characters are not real. Kenny is no more me than Captain Kirk is but represents a lot of what I might think and feel at one time or another.

Jo Ann is not directly you, just some of what you might have been, put into the context of this story for me to manipulate, to challenge the religious dogma signified by the stalks of corn and promote the good and bad aspects of the characters as they react to her.

I have many such stories as you are likely to see over the next few years.

Please do not be offended. I’m not sending this story to you to cause offense. I imply no judgements in it. Each character is a victim of circumstance as all human beings are.

Tex is the most foolish; I cannot despise him. For there is a measure of truth even in him, a shocking truth centered on an individual’s sense of self-importance.

I send the story because it reflects the truth inside of me better than any poem I could write, and I hope you accept these words with the same love and tenderness with which they were meant.

I’ll write a more communicative letter to you shortly.

 

 

Love

Al Sullivan

 

1985 menu


email to Al Sullivan

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Floundering again April 14, 1985

Image
  Dear Rita: Ah yes, it’s me again. A long break in communication, I know. Things are harder than I’d like to admit, even to myself. Down times crash in on me, and only then let me think clearly – clear by dismal. The last time we saw each other you confronted me with an essential truth, which I was not at the time capable of accepting. I’m not saying I’m any more capable now, or more stable or secure, but I am in charge of my senses and can see the inscription of truth here and there, even though it is painful. Realizing my own ignorance is perhaps one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. And in ignorance, I am hardly blissful. My writing seems to collapse under its own weight, a bunch of useless words strung together without merit or meaning. I am, after all, just a 10th grade dropout with all the ego problems that entails. Although I do think I have at times something to show for that ego such as Scrap Paper Review and a few stories worthy of being published.
Read more

A head on collision July 17, 1985

Image
  The last words of Pauly’s Tarot reading haunt me. He told me to “beware.” But he didn’t mean Safire, he meant Mary Jane. She’s on the loose with all her claws out. I’m still uncertain about the whys and wherefores, maybe she’s jealous of Safire. There have been hints of bad blood between those two for quite some time. A few weeks ago, when I wrote my letter to Safire – criticizing her and which made her cry – Mary Jane egged me on to do it. Then, Mary Jane jumped into the fray with a lot of accusations. This love/hate thing between those two drives me crazy, since I don’t know which is happening at any given moment, hate or love, and it goes back to those days when the two of them shared a Fotomat booth. Safire seems paranoid, not just about Mary Jane, but Bob and others. She cut off her friendship with Mary Jane when she suspected Mary Jane of having slept with her husband. Yet it’s not just paranoia. Mary Jane is a little devil, and deceptive enough to even fool S
Read more

Phil freaks out! December 17, 1985

Image
  Phil’s shrill voice hinted of impending disaster. Two weeks before Christmas and Pepsi Cola sent notification terminating his contract. Phil acted like a young child who’d not received the toy he’d requested from Santa. The contract had sentimental value to Phil since he had used that end of the business as foundation for his small business empire. Cold blooded, Phil aches for importance, making up for his lack of smarts with extreme shrewdness and luck, always managing to locate himself in the right place at the right time. A few years ago, Phil’s boss in a soda distribution company screwed up in delaying his bid; Phil, second in command at the time, slipped in his own bid and stole the contract. Later, when Yacenda, owner of the Willowbrook Dunkin, ran afoul of federal monopoly laws, Phil brought the franchise at bargain basement price. Still later when Gene, the owner of a Dunkin out in far Rockaway came looking for a second franchise, Phil sold him the Willowbrook s
Read more