Night after Thanksgiving Day. And the question is: What are you doing in the hospital? But you are, so here is the report from my side of the outside world:
It’s raining, but the air is very soft outside. My daughter is curled up like a cat watching The Dukes of Hazzard. I am trying to figure out what you are doing in the hospital. I’m trying to think of what to bring you to make you feel better. And on the phone you say: “I’ve gotta shift now. This tube . . . there is a tube in my chest.” And you say: “My lung collapsed.” And you make a joke about it. But later you say: “Too bad you can’t come tonight,” and I know how I would feel, alone in the hospital with tubes and wanting to smoke and scared to smoke and so broke and holidays and birthdays and I wish I could come tonight, too. But my daughter is yawning at the exertions of Luke or Bo or whoever the Duke boys are and it is too late to leave her here alone. But I can see you there in a room with somebody you don’t know and it is raining, even if the air is soft, and it is the Friday night after Thanksgiving. And so I am writing to you because I can’t be there. Because I’m thinking about you. Wondering what to bring you that will make you feel better. Here is what I have decided to bring:
1. The postcard. The thing on the back says it is called “The Dance of Life.” I can’t figure it out. Is he jumping or flying or falling? And what’s the dif? Anyway, I like the picture and hope it doesn’t strike you as morbid.
2. The book. Don’t know if you saw the movie, but the book is great. Really good, fast writing. Like a good magazine article that goes on and on. No novelist extra stuff. Just the people and what happened to ’em. Wrote a column about it and in case you didn’t see it, enclosed it, too. I try to make a case for wildness. I always try to make a case for wildness because it is comfortable. Talking to myself that way, I mean. Trying to convince myself that it really is Paris if you just concentrate. Anyway, I like the book and thought it might distract you for a while.
3. The disgusting smiley face. Just to keep you aware of the fact that a lame idea like that made millions and smart as we are, don’t you think if we can just slow down and try hard, we can come up with something?
4. The anti-smoking button. For obvious reasons. You are the only friend I’ve ever had whose health worried me. I think it is your eyes. Your heart and your pulse might be okay, but there are still your eyes.
I just opened the door since it is very warm. The air seems even softer. It is not raining anymore. I remember you said you could hear me typing one day when you came to visit. That afternoon you came. That was a nice day.
Peace & love