Dear Patrick
Letter Thirty-Three
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Dear Lana,
And just when I thought reading the next letter would kill me, I was exactly right. I did it again. I messed everything up. Just like I did with that cab driver. Just like I did with all those girls. A daughter, though? I didn't want to believe the writing because it was just graphite and paper. Graphite and paper can lie. But Lana, you can't. You can't lie to me. You've never been able to. You're just saying this to get me angry. I don't believe it- and not because I don't want to. I know you. You're lying to me through letters because you won't do it in person. So, I am going to come and I am going to get you.
Want me to tell you how, love? You made a mistake. Yes, perfectionist you made a mistake. I never thought I'd be happy to see you make a mistake but oh lord am I happy. Lana, you didn't scribble out the name of the hotel on the stationary you were using. Lana I am so beyond happy I can barely control myself.
I'm confused too. I don't get what you're doing in the Trump Tower in Chicago. I don't care, man, I couldn't care less. I'm coming to you and me and you, we're going to fix this and I just can't wait.
Patrick
Saturday, January 14, 2014
So I overthought the old plan I made. I didn't realize how outdated I was. Your letter was from about a month ago. So you've left the Trump Tower. But here's the thing. In Chicago, I'm not Pat or Patty or even Patrick. They consider me more than that, here, Lana. I've never loved the special treatment like I did today and trust me, Chicago's given me plenty of reason to love it.
So right when I'm about to leave through the doors all disappointed because the front desk told me you'd checked out two weeks ago, a man stops me. Lana, I honestly was so annoyed. All I could think was: this son of a bitch wants my autograph and I'm looking for the fucking love of my life. But assumptions are horrible things to make. Turns out you're good friends with this kid. He's around our age, he told me. His name's Patrick, too. You really know how to change direction Lana. You can't get a mock me. Not because you can't find one, though, but because I'm coming. I'm almost there.
Thank God for Patrick. Gave him tickets to like nine games and to my suite in the arena so he's probably thinking the same exact thing. Lana I'm almost outside your freaking place and I just can't even contain it. I couldn't stop shaking I had to get a cab. That's why my handwriting is even worse than it typically is. Oh boy, Lana, we're turning the corner now and I can barely see your car in the parking lot of the hotel: it's all foggy in the window because it's cold outside and the snow everywhere but I know it's yours because your license plate is still KANE 88 and I'm about to absolutely lose m
Dear Lana,
And just when I thought reading the next letter would kill me, I was exactly right. I did it again. I messed everything up. Just like I did with that cab driver. Just like I did with all those girls. A daughter, though? I didn't want to believe the writing because it was just graphite and paper. Graphite and paper can lie. But Lana, you can't. You can't lie to me. You've never been able to. You're just saying this to get me angry. I don't believe it- and not because I don't want to. I know you. You're lying to me through letters because you won't do it in person. So, I am going to come and I am going to get you.
Want me to tell you how, love? You made a mistake. Yes, perfectionist you made a mistake. I never thought I'd be happy to see you make a mistake but oh lord am I happy. Lana, you didn't scribble out the name of the hotel on the stationary you were using. Lana I am so beyond happy I can barely control myself.
I'm confused too. I don't get what you're doing in the Trump Tower in Chicago. I don't care, man, I couldn't care less. I'm coming to you and me and you, we're going to fix this and I just can't wait.
Patrick
Saturday, January 14, 2014
So I overthought the old plan I made. I didn't realize how outdated I was. Your letter was from about a month ago. So you've left the Trump Tower. But here's the thing. In Chicago, I'm not Pat or Patty or even Patrick. They consider me more than that, here, Lana. I've never loved the special treatment like I did today and trust me, Chicago's given me plenty of reason to love it.
So right when I'm about to leave through the doors all disappointed because the front desk told me you'd checked out two weeks ago, a man stops me. Lana, I honestly was so annoyed. All I could think was: this son of a bitch wants my autograph and I'm looking for the fucking love of my life. But assumptions are horrible things to make. Turns out you're good friends with this kid. He's around our age, he told me. His name's Patrick, too. You really know how to change direction Lana. You can't get a mock me. Not because you can't find one, though, but because I'm coming. I'm almost there.
Thank God for Patrick. Gave him tickets to like nine games and to my suite in the arena so he's probably thinking the same exact thing. Lana I'm almost outside your freaking place and I just can't even contain it. I couldn't stop shaking I had to get a cab. That's why my handwriting is even worse than it typically is. Oh boy, Lana, we're turning the corner now and I can barely see your car in the parking lot of the hotel: it's all foggy in the window because it's cold outside and the snow everywhere but I know it's yours because your license plate is still KANE 88 and I'm about to absolutely lose m
Notes
is the letter format getting annoying to anyone?
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2/12/15