HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Hi Keren,
Thanx for the letter – and Happy Birthday! Thanx for the tattoo sticker – that is great. Christmas was good – my first with my boyfriend Kenny. We had a Christmas party (for his kids, mostly), where Ken’s nephew dressed up like Santa + we had gifts + food (+BEER!) – I got a great camera from Ken, some money (suprise!) from my mom + dad. New Year’s Eve Ken + I went for dinner + had a nice, quiet night. No big parties, but alot of fun.
It’s funny you like The Germs because I do too + I just go the GI tape. Also I’ve been a Circle Jerks fan forever – like when I was 11 years old + nobody else had even heard of ’em!
My care is giving me lots of troubles + I’m getting tempted to leave it on the side of the road somewhere! I hope you get to go to a kibbutz when school is done. That would be really excellent, I think.
Oh I got a job last week – a new restaurant just opened 5 miles from where I live + so I start there later this month. I’ll be a cook.
I’ve pretty much moved all my stuff out of Kenny’s house, as his Not-Yet Ex Wife (who left him for a WOMAN a year + 1/2 ago) is giving us BIG troubles. I stay here mostly, but when his kids are here (Wednesdays + every other weekend), I leave. (Long story.) ~ It sucks, because I feel a bit homeless, but it’s OK because now I feel a little less MARRIED. It’s such a long, disgusting story. I love Ken but the situation with this woman is hideous. At least now I’ve got a job so as to keep my mind off it all.
Ok well it’s late now + I’ve got to go.
Write again soon!
Love,
Ckris.
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Wouldn’t I want to live in a place where an 11 y/o can be familiar with Circle Jerks?
I usually pick the letters randomly from the bags. When it comes to long-terms correspondents I try to transcribe chronologically, but in both case I seldom read the letter before typing. The divorce story is a weird coincidence. As I was typing I got a phone call from my father. Tomorrow the 4 of us: My husband, my brother, his girlfriend and me are meeting The Girlfriend, with whom he’s been sharing his life for I dunno how long – depends whether you ask him my mother.
So yeah, January 1995: Shitty 17th birthday. The guy I was in love with didn’t call me and I wanted to die. A few days earlier, in the army office, a reunion with old classmates who shared a birthday week but didn’t share my lack of enthusiasm. Skipped the medical examination and messed up the exams, what ended up getting me out.
The Kibbutz thing: a thought that crossed my mind on the 12th grade. I considered the option of an individual service in a kibbutz, working in a daycare or in the fields, but then realized that I’d have to go through boot camp, shoot and wear uniform and pretty much be a part of the establishment anyway, so I gave up on this.
paper madeleine 