An Open Letter to Nick Vargelis

dear nick,

when i got home earlier tonight i felt like shit. i have been
traveling for almost a month straight. i know you don't even know
exactly what i was doing. nobody knows exaclty what i've been doing,
and that includes me and i'm not kidding.

you've been crashing in my room, because that's how things roll at
the cloud club. you're leaving in a few weeks for paris, and you're
couch-surfing, as i have been for the past month. seattle, portland,
san francisco, LA, santa fe and new york (with connecting flights in
salt lake city, atlanta, phoenix and maybe i'm missing something),
doing everything from recording to mixing to photoshoots to singing
and rehearsing to shows and video shoots to holding new babies to
mastering and having nail-ripping and life-determining meetings about
my life and career and suffice it to say, i'm fucking tired. so
tired, nick. empty tired. don't give a fuck tired, unhappy tired. i
have been feeling so weird lately. coming home has been upsetting.

i got in from NYC at around 4pm today, dropped off my suitcase and
put on a dress and got a ride from lee straight downtown to go to the
opera with my family, which was the whole reason i came back today.
we ate. i tried to stay awake. then i came home. i felt Empty And
Lonely. i sort of know what i'm doing with my life, but not really. i
don't feel at home here anymore. i've gotten too used to the road.

i felt something bordering full-on depression as i decided that it
was time to go to bed. i didn't want to go there. i've been sleeping
alone, but something about going to bed alone tonight seemed
especially sad. i brushed my teeth and picked two books to take to
bed with me to keep me company. i couldn't do it, couldn't for some
reason, didn't want to go to bed, even though i was so fucking wasted
tired. i just kept listlessly looking at piles of unopened mail to
see if maybe something personal showed up in the course of the last
month along with all the bills and books from amazon......maybe....
some letter from some ex-lover that might change my life that i could
take to bed with me and clutch to my chest.

i kept checking emails, until my computer got knocked offline and i
decided that it was a sign and i should, finally, go to bed.

so, reluctantly, i finally did.

and when i climbed up the stairs to my sleeping loft and found not
one, not two, not three or four or five, but SIXTY impeccably-frosted
vegan cupcakes laid out in the shape of a crucifix on my bed, i
wanted to crumble with gratitude that indeed, everything is All
Right. the fact that you included a painfully large xerox
reproduction of my embarrassing high school yearbook picture was also
The Shit. i'm not even tired anymore. i am now in a Fantastic Fucking
Mood. i need more friends like you.

i really, really love you, nick vargelis.

yours,
amanda