Another letter:

Dear Deanna,

A few weeks ago I turned on the television when I woke up in the morning; on channel 22 was the CNN weather lady. She was at The National Mall -- snow falling all around her; the Capitol building looming in the background. She was talking about how treacherous four inches of snow can be while traveling by car, but the federal government would remain open. Sensationalism will always rule the television news.

Honestly, I felt like a dick when I had to change the channel because I felt tears begin well up in my eyes.

I guess when it comes down to it, no matter how much I tell myself that I’m over it, I still really miss our old surroundings:

- the fourth floor of Capitol Hall;

- a liquor store across the street;

- a crazy Iris Krasnow;

- the front stoop and how there always seemed to be one pothead or another sitting there, waiting for someone to join in;

- everybody who was always nice and intelligent enough to hold a great conversation;

- how you were always up for getting ice cream at the luxurious Tenley Café;

- Washington, D.C.,

- etc.

- etc.

My friends have always told me that I am too nostalgic, but it’s hard not to miss those last few weeks in Washington -- they were some of the happiest moments of my life. Thanks for being there.

I already got an e-mail about the summer journalists reunion on Long Island.

How has your post-D.C. experience been?

Being back “home” in Pittsburgh is about the same as I figured it would be -- it’s not bad, but it’s far from great. I am essentially starting over here -- I am stuck back in the spring of ’03 with all the same inside jokes, while most all of my friends have moved off campus and moved on. I can’t blame them, I really didn’t think they were going to wait for me.

But, some of the same close friends I had last year genuinely seemed to miss me and seem to be glad that I’m back. It’s good to have people that seem to care, and I am grateful for that. Last Thursday I went to ’80s Night, the local, hipster, indie-kids dance night where Iron City beer goes for $1.50 a bottle and Michael Jackson and Depesche Mode rule the room. Drinking heavily and dancing stupidly with my old friends helped put Washington further into the back of my mind.

But, unfortunately staying here in this city is (pretty much) out of the question. I think I would be too lonely if I lived here all summer.

I have recently inquired about an internship at the Pittsburgh, literary magazine The New Yinzer. If by some outside chance they actually offer me an internship, then I leaving wouldn’t be a choice.

Here is an excerpt from an e-mail that I wrote Chris recently:

Pittsburgh is a lot like how I described it: three murky, brown rivers; tall buildings, stained gray from the pollution that still lingers from the day of the steel mill; a sky that always seems to be clouded. That much hadn’t changed in my eight month absence from this place.

But, the seemingly depressing landscape conjures a lot of inspiration. There is history and culture and roots in this city. It’s not like D.C. -- a city created and thriving on stupid, bitter, bi-partisan politics and monuments erected for dead, American heroes (those heroes often times being politicians).

I never felt inspired in that city (on a writing level that is) except for those late nights when red wine and weed was coursing through my body; my computer at my fingertips; a bitter, angry, spoiled Republican tossing and turning, huffing and puffing behind me (us), more worried about the health and well being of a horse rather than anything else in this twisted, messed-up world.

In late January I mailed three short-stories to a publication in Massachusetts -- Quick Fiction. It’s a biannual, literary journal that publishes fiction stories of less than 500 words.

Since before Thanksgiving it had been my goal to write, rewrite, edit and finalize five stories and have three of them in the mail by January 20. I accomplished that goal. Honestly, I was real proud of myself. I like to look at it as a step in the right direction. I set a goal for myself, and I accomplishing that goal. I can’t even tell you how happy I was writing; spending afternoons into evenings at the local coffee shop working; I sacrificed a lot of sleep when I felt inspired. Writing is what I love to do and nothing makes me happier.

About a week after sending in my submissions I got a denial back in the mail.

I drank pretty heavily that night. But with all the beer and the little bit of whiskey, I came to the conclusion that we live in an objective world. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure”; if Iris Krasnow can have a New York Times best selling novel, then Goddamn, so can I!

Things with Elissa deteriorated. (Surprised? Mean neither.)

Over Christmas break we spoke a lot, and there was a lot of optimism. I sent her some of my writing in the mail, and one of the stories was vaguely about her. She said she loved them a lot. Then when we got back to school she didn’t seem to want to talk to me anymore, and never returned two e-mails I sent her. I came home drunk one night a few weeks ago to find her profile saying something along the lines of, “There are no nice men in the world, they are all stupid; no wonder Elissa is still single.”

I wrote her an instant message that said: “I am sorry, I drank too much tonight, but I just wanted to let you know that I think what you wrote in your profile is a bunch of bullshit. Sorry.”

She IM’ed me a few days later asking me what I was talking about and I apologized -- not because I wanted to, but because I remembered that she may be a connection to get me an internship in Pittsburgh.

I told her that I had had too much to drink, and not to worry about what I said -- “I was just drunk; it didn’t mean anything.”

Obviously, things between us under even the best circumstances never would have worked out. I still look at that picture of us out in the snow from time to time. She is still really beautiful. (I have been trying to creatively write an account of what happened that night in the snow. When, or if I ever do, finish it, I will send it to you.)

I don’t know if there are any girls in Pittsburgh for me. But, I’m not too worried about it, there are more important things to worry about, like: Will George Bush still be president come 2005? Will I be a published writer within the next year? What is the square-root of 235? How do they “cram all the gram?”

Shake that Magic 8 Ball.

How are things with you and Chris?

My new roommate snores a lot, but at the very least he isn’t Kyle and, he isn’t Republican. He does like Aerosmith a lot though; he doesn’t brush his teeth and breathes heavily constantly like that kid on Hey! Arnold. Luckily, the kid who I have pretty much been best friends with since my freshman year lives next door. He is good guy. He keeps me sane most of the time.

According to Duquesne guidelines, students in the liberal arts college are required to take three semesters of a foreign language, so I am taking Italian (Italiano) this semester, and unfortunately until I graduate next May. I’m failing only a month and a half in and my professor (professoressa) almost made me cry a few weeks ago when she grilled me relentlessly with questions I couldn’t answer. “No capisco,” was all I could utter under my breath as the rest of the class quietly laughed at my inability to understand what the hell she was talking about. I was having these flash backs from when I was in 7th grade; I got either a D or a D+ in French four marking periods in a row. My parents grounded me almost every weekend. That was the last time I took a foreign language.

I really wish I could learn a foreign language, but I honestly don’t think I can. I am considering appealing to the school to see if I can take some kind of aptitude test to prove that I have a learning disability or something, anything.

The weather in Pittsburgh has mostly been abominable this winter -- for a few weeks it didn’t go over 25 degrees. Today was a beautiful day though -- sunny, breezy and 55. I am sure it is much the same in liberal land, AKA -- Vassar College. The older I get the less and less I like these cold winters. I guess it’s almost time to retire, move to Florida and wait for death. At least I’ll get to play golf.

Andy came and visited Uncle Bob and I at Duquesne way back in December. Great guy that Andy. If you see him walking around tell him I say hello. He is going to be back in Pittsburgh for a few weeks in March I understand which will be good. I miss that kid. I miss a lot of people from D.C. though. You know who you are.

I had this plan in my head to drive to Vassar over my spring break and surprise you. But, apparently, you will be on your spring break the same week that I will be. But, as we had talked about, March 13 me and you and Chris should get together in The City and drink some wine and be nostalgic/hopeful.

Really though, when I reread this letter, I feel like you may think I am really sad and morbid, but, really, I’m not. I am happy, it’s just a very different kind of happiness than D.C.

I am being forced to rely on myself because I am no longer surrounded by so many amazing people.

Something optimistic like that.

Sincerity to the girl who smiles like a mackintosh apple,

Jason C. Mills

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