Letter to Russell. (Early 80s)

Dear Russell -
This letter is intended for you only - although, most probably, no one else would have the slightest interest in its contents. It's hard for me to sit down and put my thoughts on paper these days, but since I can't talk to you, I'm making an effort.
I hope life is treating you better than it is me lately. Sniff, sniff. (Right?) Allow me to indulge myself in my sorrows, please. I have only you to do so with. You alone, I feel, can actually relate to the feelings of loneliness, despair, alienation and frustration that I feel. I've made an effort to be "normal," but I'm just not "normal." I'm not. And I sometimes feel a rage that stems from being made to feel that I should be like everyone else. And a disgust for myself for trying.
B. thinks I'm a "snob" because I don't socialize with all these "average folks." (Keep in mind, I'm not putting people down for being ordinary - I swear - it's just that I can't talk to them without re-arranging my vocabulary and holding back my "radical" opinions.) Russell, I just CAN'T, with good conscience, spend money to support the good life (that I want for myself) of some mercenary film-maker by seeing "Friday the 13th, Part Whatever, Beyond the Final Chapter ("whatever the hell else you want to put in there..." as Irving Cohen would say) with a bunch of these good, ordinary people.
I'm sorry.
Russell, I've been really screwed up lately. I fell for an 18 year old girl, recently. I would have given anything to make love to her. One night, when we were drinking a good bit, I touched her shoulder, turned her around and kissed her, good and deep. Just like that. She responded. But, we were drunk and she's just 18 and I don't get to see her that much, so I don't know if it meant anything at all to her. I'm supposed to take her to the prom (!), so maybe that will tell me something, as we'll have some time alone. I think she's into chicks also. But, that's alright by me. In fact, it kinda turns me on! Ok, I'm perverted. So, what else is new?
I was in a very, very deep depression, a while back, that lasted for weeks. That was fun, I tell you. I was sick to death of everything. I mean EVERYTHING! I felt as if my heart (for lack of a better description) was very heavy and weary - world weary. I saw no point in living. None what-so-ever. Everything had lost its meaning to me. All the little joys in life no longer made me the least bit happy. I wanted an end to come to my existence. I can't say I wanted to kill myself - who really wants to do that - but I wanted my life to end, somehow.
I am happy (?!) to say that that's over with now. Now, I'm only slightly depressed (compared to what I suffered before). I have all of the same symptoms, only not as intense. I had just started taking some medication before and I think it could have kicked my depression into over-drive, by causing changes in me.
By causing changes in me. Boy, what a stoopid sounding line. But, this is what you get when you're dealing with a Ruff Giraffe, right?
I wish I could show you this cartoon from Hustler. Try to imagine this man and woman sitting at a restaurant table, over a candle-lit meal. The woman has these huge, exposed, exaggerated breasts that are lying all over the table. The man has this monstrous penis, about 3 feet long, sticking up in front of him. Got it? Ok. The caption reads, "...but, that's enough about me. Say, that's a mighty big dick you have there."
So, enough about me.
You know Russell, just writing this has helped me. So, thanks for reading it and being understanding.
I guess you really don't need to hear this shit from me. You've probably gotten your life all straightened out now. I hope you do. I mean that. Nothing would make me happier or give me more hope for myself.
Please write me and let me know how you're doing. I haven't heard from you in quite a while.
Russ, I still want to make it with a beautiful black chick. If I come up, can you set me up? Or, maybe, you know, 5 or 6, so we can have an orgy. That's something to live for! If you can't get a black one, I'll settle for a gorgeous white one...
We're the last of a dying breed, Russel B. (two Ls - no E). Let's not abandon each other.

Remember: The Smurfs are Satanic!

Zappa has this album out (he releases 3 or 4 a year, it seems) called, "Thing Fish." It's a triple album. He seems to be trying to make some statement about the black/white thing. But, true to Zappa fashion, I'll be damned if I know what the hell he means. Eddie T. says he's making fun of blacks. And so it seems - except he has a black guy narrating, so I say it's satire. But, I still don't know what the hell he's saying.
Oh well, a bit of fluff and a good-bye.
Write me. See me. Have passionate and furious sex with me.
Love -
Jimmi

PS "King Kong" is coming to Wilmington!
If you like Prince's music (I do) and you think his image is interesting, then go see "Purple Rain" (if you haven't already). But try to be open-minded. Remember: It's all for FUN! No, the acting may not be the greatest, but there's something fresh about it. And, the musical performances? They are HOT! Better yet - bring your VCR down with you and we'll rent some flicks. We belong to a club now. Ha! Ha!
Another thing: Let's get REAL drunk together one day.

I think that's all.
Jimmi


(Author's comments: Boy, I don't know where to begin. I was all over the place in that letter. I sound manic. Let's start with my obsession with the 18 year old girl. Bear in mind, I was only 23 at the time - but I was also married. She was a friend of ours and I was a very depressed young man. I used the word "obsession" and that's exactly what it was. Looking back, I'm amazed that I ever thought I had any real feelings for her.
The next thing I should address is the depression. At one point in the letter, I made it sound as if I had been sad but now I was better. I didn't get better until I was in my late 20s. I was severely depressed for years. It was a dark time in my life that I have trouble even thinking about.
On a lighter note, "Ruff Giraffe" is a term I came up with in high school. It derives, of course, from "rough draft." I remember illustrating the Ruff Giraffe - kinda punk rock, wearing leather and chains... It was just a silly joke between Russell and I.
"Black chicks." Ahem... My friend Russell had shared with me that he had had sex with a black girl, someone that he worked with. I'm not in the least bit racist, and neither was he, but interracial dating was still a rather explosive topic in the South, in those days. Jeez, it's a difficult subject. It's hard to get 3 words into it without sounding suspect. Let's just say that it was some good natured ribbing between 2 friends.
In "Thing Fish," I believe that Frank Zappa was using outrageous stereotypes to satirize white people's notions about African-Americans. He also touched on secret government operations, the AIDS crisis, homosexuality and feminism. Zappa was a fearless artist and, therefore, a champion for free speech.
In trying to be a little more fearless myself, artistically, I am sharing some awfully awkward notes, letters and confessions from my life. I've never been perfect, but I feel warranted to state that I have always had a good heart [metaphorically speaking]. Peace and Love, baby.)