Ceci n'est pas une lettre

ILE reg'lar **** claimed that they were going to write me a letter last Winter because they were going to revive letter-writing as an artform. Did it turn up? Did it arse.

I almost never write letters now. You are all my pen friends. J'aime ecouter les disques et mon lapin s'apelle George.

If you ever met them, did you remain friends or did you fall out?

This of course is the real urgent and key qn in the days of the Interweb, and those people who were dragged off on foreign exchanges have an evolutionary advantage over the rest of us.

i love mail . i write letters and postcards . noone can read my handwriting but it is vaugley poetic.

At high school I had an Italian penfriend, a girl from Bologna. Of course her letters were half in Italian, and I couldn't understand them, so I asked my teacher to translate, he read them, chuckled and gave them back without telling me what they said! Git!...I should learn Italian properly so that I can finally understand what girl from Bologna was saying.

The 2 French exchanges I did were not as a result of penfriendship but school / neighbour stuff. The neighbour one started off with a letter or two, promisingly stating that 'I have no friends' (from her,not me). This proved to be true and my 2 weeks with Laeticia were not happy. She was a big Police fan and wore horn rimmed leopard print glasses with matching ankle boots, on her return visit this sartorial faux pas caused me great embarrassment as the boys who sat at the back of the school bus would sing 'where did you get those shoes and glasses' at her and I was never sure if she understood.

I had a pen friend when at school: he was Tanzanian, called Zakayo Nashon Kwendo. We wrote quite diligently every few months while both still at school, then it petered out when he left school and started work, and I left school and stopped (ie went to college haha).

First year in college I sent him a tape of my favourite music, oh dear. But no, he liked CAPTAIN BEEFHEART: "Dali's Car"!!

I still have his letters somewhere, and vaguely intend one day to write again. I do wonder how things are with him occasionally. If he is on the interweb he can Tash-and-Come.

Had quite a few over my teen years, some of which I rudely let die on their own (Craig Nishimura, if you're out there, I'm sorry!), other of which seemed to accidentally peter out. Gained a swathe during college, and in fact when I first visited the UK in 1992 I met up with two, Morag and Tina, good folks both (Tina's family was especially nice to me, a total stranger!). The following year, though, I discovered that Net thing, and aside from a couple of sporadic contacts most of my regular-letter-writing friends didn't make the transition over or else just lost touch. My net-friend kulcha, though, grows and thrives by the day.

Several in elementary school. One from a second-grade teacher, whom I stopped writing to in third or fourth grade. She lived somewhere in England and her name was Gemma. That's all I remember. One from an Armenian reunion named Dana; we had her address written on ice-cream- cone shaped paper. One from a vacation to Cape Breton named Caroline. I don't remember how many letters we wrote; probably none.
Two from 7th grade 4-H camp. One insisted on being called Tenel-Ka. We wrote two letters. The other was Abby, who was one of the sweetest most interesting people I've met; we wrote for two years and then decided to start e-mailing, which killed the correspondence. I keep thinking I should write back to her. One from a ninth grade Latin convention; one letter proved that we had nothing in common besides having run around a Latin convention together. One being an old friend who moved whom I've still not written to, but gee I promise I will!

One Internet pen pal, to whom I would write actual letters if my mother wasn't positive that she's really a middle aged male rapist and serial killer because she is on the Internet and therefore MUST be a psychopath. I am going to write letters to Abby and the friend who has moved away. Oh, yeah, there's a girl from my English class who's spending the year in Japan. Arrived three days ago. I should write.

Yes! I did have a pen friend. I've half forgotten about it now. Charlotte her name was. She only lived in Andover. We wrote a million letters. onder where she is now?

I briefly wrote to another girl whose letters appeared from nowhere seemingly. Almost immediately they got quite steamy, quite graphic even. I put a stop to it soon after - she scared me a bit.

I used to really quite like writing letters though. When they popped through the letter box it was always a bit of a thrill. The triple double-yoo has put paid to my letter writing for good though, it seems.

The main reason I hang around places like this (online, right) is the hope that I will nag more pen pals. I love writing letters more than anything ever. The letters I send--they look so good, they have the best and funnest things in them and they make everyone happy. I also make excellent envelopes and try whenever possible to use thematic stamps. My letters are just like choice journal pages farmed with the envelope as a frame. I will mail anyone some art.

Does anyone want to send me a letter? Just e-mail me for my address. You will get something fantastic in return, I promise you that.

So of course I have plenty of pen pals. Some are friends or people I know who have moved into other towns. Many I have never met, and how I was hooked up with them is quite a tale in some cases. Quite a few people I met online. I also write to missionaries.

nag=snag in previous post

The only friends I had when I was a teenager were the punk rock penpals I met through Lenny Kaye's Doc Rock column in Rock Scene. And my fag hag next door neighbor. I ran away to New York to hang out with my pen pal Billy first chance I got. I wonder if my parents realized what a dangerous little hobby it was?

I've remained friends with a couple of the old gang. I keep meaning to get my old buddy Linda's e-mail address. Linda Cuckovich of Warren Ohio, I miss you!

I finally met my LA pen pal Trudy a few years ago. It had been 20 years since we last corresponded. We didn't have much to say to each other, but she looked great. She's married to KK from the Screamers and has a bunch of kids.

I rarely write letters. Postcards yes, letters no. I owe my father a letter, I should get on it right now.

'Darvon Staggard?' Is that you?

Some of which I rudely let die on their own

I'm still not sure if I should make a joke about Ned taking the jovial thing too far here.

Stranger has happened, Young Master Fitzgerald.