Dear Mistah Vela:

Sunday, 13 March 2005

We can only assume it’s the Chardonnay as it’s been scientifically determined that the site in question, hereafter referred to as The White Elephant, is neither excellent nor worthwhile. It’s self-evident. As Ezra Pound himself remarked in the Ouija board séance we boys sneaked off to conduct during my bar mitzvah: you’ll never work again in this town, kid.

Therefore I formally demand an apology not just because of the drunken misunderestimation but in spite of it. Consider this a warning of the flea circus litigation to come if a munificently funded one is not forthcoming. Don’t fuck around—we’ve seen your writers’ club treasury books. Maybe this will teach you to hold your booze.

Your little fortress on Monster Island Principality won’t get you out of Dutch this time. You can tell your Mothra I said so.

Your favorite writer,

Vivian Five VI

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A is A

Re: Dear Mistah Vela:

Five years. I hardly knew you and still really miss you.

By A is A on 13 March 2010 · 18:29

A is A

Re^2: Dear Mistah Vela:

Ten years now… A wonder we weren’t reacquainted. Maybe you made it easier to wait by going first.

By A is A on 13 March 2015 · 20:56