Hi,


     It's been a while. I know. More than a while. A long time. My computer is acting like a despondent lover. Someone that has been neglected. It won't allow me to close out of certain browsers. It won't accept the fact that I keep trying to tell "Google" that I DO NOT want to save my password... not this time... not ANY time.

     ...and if you think that the computer is acting poorly, I could hardly begin to describe the disgusting treatment that I'm receiving from the typewriters... machine gunning, dropped letters, dried ribbons or even worse... stuck ribbons...

     I fell off the grid. Even the notebooks have betrayed me as I sit down with pen in hand and can not think...can not think...can not think... will not think...think...THINK...THINK to write anything at all. Not about myself, not even in fiction.

     I miss myself (and no, I don't "miss you almost as much as I miss myself"). I genuinely miss who I was and who I am and who I want to be.

     I keep listening to Nirvana's Nevermind. I tried to promise myself that I would listen to it every day because, somehow, I still get the same feeling that I got the very first time that I heard it. My stomach knots, shoots up my esophagus and gets stuck in my throat. ENERGY! ELECTRICITY! courses through my veins and there's this euphoria... this epiphany like a fantastic blow to the head that tells me, "This is who I am. This is what I am supposed to be."   

     I'm supposed to write. I'm supposed to play guitar. I'm supposed to knock over equipment. I'm supposed to listen to as many records and read as many books on the subject as I can get my sweaty hands on.

     This might mean that I'm totally and completely alone. That I could get lonely. It could mean that I might not leave my room very often... and my friends might stop calling because I never go out with them, anyway... but I feel like in the end, in the grand scheme of things, this is what I'm built to do.

     Waking up, looking at this new desk with my old computer on it, it was nice to know that. It made me deliriously happy. This. Is. What. I. Am. Meant. To. Do.

     This is my purpose. My "heartsong".

     Besides, I never told you how The Libertines story ended (or if it's even over), or if Lee and Nin do go through with death, or Audrey Moriarity's breakdown. I never told you if Esther marries Julian... I never even showed you, The Dead Boyfriend.  Did you know that about six years ago I started working on a script?

     And songs, yeah... I've got songs.

     You can criticize this. You can tell me that I'm being dramatic. You can even cut me down because you don't understand but this is what matters to me. This is what my happiness is.

     Thanks for reading. All of it.

                                                    As Ever,

                                                       Jack
                                                         Ana