Postmarked August 22 1995
to M in Kansas City from E in smalltown Kansas

M-
I haven't heard much from you lately - not to force a reply, I was just a little lonely and I felt like writing - not so much lonely as alone, because I am enjoying this isolation now as a quite rare occurrence that I have taken to accepting whenever I have the chance.

Although I am not finding them quite as insipid now as I last told you, I see them far too much. I am trying to read "Remembrance of Things Past" by Marcel Proust and haven't been able to read a single page of it without someone attempting to pull me from the book into some confusion about boredom or where their boyfriend is at, unless I'm reading after work because none of them seem to be looking for anything at seven in the morning. To explain that I've started working the graveyard shift (11-7) at a factory just outside of town. I am very glad not to be working in food service anymore but I'll be leaving this job soon because I'm getting ready to leave in two or three weeks and because as much as I enjoyed the job - the work is rather easy and the people in my department are diverse enough to be very interesting, we often took breaks and I was making $240 a week - as much as I liked it, the place is far too unsafe to keep working there; which wouldn't have bothered me too much until I was

injured. I had been cutting one of the large parts we make there out of the piece of plastic that it had been stamped into with what I later found out was a grinder that had been turned into a saw by screwing a blade onto the end of it, when the blade broke and sent a piece of itself into my face. Fortunately it only cut my lip and knocked out three teeth which has caught most people as a strange thing to be relieved about but if I had to chose where in my face to catch a blade my teeth wouldn't be the worst of choices. I've already ad the stitches taken out and my teeth will be fixed either Tuesday or Wednesday morning.

This letter probably seems to be occurring a bit late according to the date on the front but I didn't get a chance to start writing on it again until Monday. I should find places to write where people won't find me. This is most of the writing I've been doing lately. I believe I've only written three poems this summer, but I'm thinking of trying prose again. I don't believe it is lack of inspiration(although this it has been a bit scarce) so much as I think I am afraid of not being able to write anything good. I've known this for a while and where it came from I'm not sure, but now I just need some sort of motivation.

Oh, I did read something by Anais Nin, I remember you telling me I should. It wasn't one of her novels but I was very impressed with it - really, beyond what I would expect, even from someone I was recommended to read. The book was The Novel of the Future, which is why I'm reading Marcel Proust - because of several references to him in the book as a wonderful example of writing from the dream.

Anyway, I should try to sleep now. I hope you are doing well. I'll try to keep writing. Miss you always. Love E.

PS The thing about wanting to be a lesbian only ended up lasting a day or two which I am happy about because wanting that type of thing can make for some very desperate times. But I think I know now what was causing it and I am surprised I didn't figure it out while I was writing that odd letter. Maybe the cover band distracted me. Oh well, no use running backwards about this right now. I'll see you soon.