Let Her

Carrie,
Oh me! What percentage of personal written correspondence must begin with an apology for a lapse in communication? I imagine the stats are awesome. I've always wished someone was keeping statistics on all things done in a life, and that when you die you get to see them. Can you imagine. How many snickers bars have I eaten? How many times have I said fuck? Really though, I apologize for not writing at all for like a month. I don't have an excuse, just a new letter on the back of your blogged up interview. Fantastic interview by the way, I'm glad to have been a part of it.
How are things? I hope well. I imagine that by now you have maybe an idea of when you'll be breathing the fresh air of the outside world? Yes? I hope.
I must admit with some shame that I've been rather bad about typing up your blog responses. I think both of us became a bit overwhelmed by my initial zest and the confusion ran rampant. I have it all, and I have intention of taking great care to deal with the posting in the future.
Things have been moving along band wise. There are some neat things that are not 100% confirmed that I hope to be able to share with you soon, however as of this writing my fear of the jinx is far to present.
Today's letter will be short, but I felt I needed to do it. I have several people from all walks of my life that I have been neglecting and I finally decided that I would go ahead and make a call even if I only had 3 minutes, or write a letter when I have five, because if I let the ball sit there until I have a huge chunk of time, it will never get rolling again.
Much Love,
Step to this,
Buck,
Brandon

Super days to come. I like fingers. My face is tired. Water. Rubber bands. Foam. Petroleum. Do you speak the German Baby? slide.