Ladies and Gentlemen, my apologies, but the letter is closed. Despite generations of flawless idea exchanges via open letters, you know, ones that always produce the desired result, this letter is closed. I decided to roll the dice and write to one specific person or entity. It was a daunting process. First of all, how do I even title it? “A Closed Letter To ____?” Or is it just, “Dear Only One Person For Real?” “For British Eyes Only?” They should teach these things in school—possibly in some kind of “closed letters” class.
I thought a lot about the larger ramifications of writing a closed letter. Won’t every other person on earth be offended that I didn’t include them in my communication to someone else? What kind of commenting system can people use to give their opinions on what I write to ‘not them’? How will anyone write a reaction piece to my closed letter if it can’t be shared via social networks? Should I take a picture of it?
Okay, here is a picture of it: [REDACTED]
It’s hard trying something new. I’m so used to the convenience of writing letters ostensibly to one person, but in actuality to everyone with an Internet connection—then sitting around hoping that the one person to whom my letter is actually relevant will somehow miraculously see it. I guess I just prefer the ease of amorphous and indirect communication. I’m just really laidback and non-confrontational. Or at least that’s what I subtweeted my ex last night.
However, sometimes you have to push yourself outside of your comfort zone. A comfort zone is kind of like a “friend zone,” but for you, instead of someone who’s unattractive to you. It’s also kind of like a T-Zone, but the T-shaped area is in your mind instead of on your face, and it’s filled with comfort instead of combination skin. It’s nothing like a Discovery Zone.
So, I left my comfort zone and wrote a closed letter. The letter will go on a journey from my mind to my hands to the page and then, hopefully—if the United States Postal Service is successful and still exists—the eyes of my intended recipient. I don’t know what will come of this, but my conservative expectation is a pure and permanent revolution. Also, perhaps my own closed letter in response.
I thought about contacting this special person in a lot of other ways. I tweeted at them, but the bird died after I squeezed it too hard. I tumblered them, several times, before realizing there’s no “e” in Tumblr, and I was just drunk on highballs. I tried a whisper campaign where I told one librarian and they told another, and so on, until the whole city was erotically abuzz with my precious murmur. Unfortunately, Cesar Milan ended up whispering it to a dog and now the dog’s not talking.
Then I tried going viral. Apparently a virus is literally the only thing you DON’T want going viral—so whoever came up with that name is an idiot. My viral virus was very difficult to control and instead of carrying my message, it just gave a bunch of people pink eye.
So anyway, just to reiterate, the letter is closed. The letter is Action Park. The letter is CBGB’s. The letter is an adoption where the records are sealed. The letter is a seal’s mouth after catching a fish. The letter is a book about seal adoptions that you’ve finished reading.
The letter is the government during a shutdown. The letter is a boxer’s fist. The letter is Ted Cruz’s mind. This letter is a non-embarrassing button fly. The letter is a masturbator’s bedroom door.
The letter is China before Nixon. The letter is your middle school on a snow day. The letter is the bar at 4am. The letter is the jerk store when they run out of jerks.
The letter is every case at the end of Law & Order. The letter is the captioning feature on Netflix. The letter is the appropriate toe style on any shoe worn in a laboratory. The letter is a terrible driver’s eyes.
The letter is a naked man who got dressed. The letter is the box before Pandora fucked everything up. The letter is Glenn Closed. The letter is closed.
I hope her heart is open.