Sunday, August 28, 2005

My Beloved Brother

Mama and I are both longing for you to make your fortune as we believe that your success will mean happiness for us all. Although I wish to embrace you, I will delay such thoughts until you are NOT composing and can spare the time to receive them in spirit. Alas to bed I now must steal and with these words I do impart - as long as you can piddle, shit or deadly fart, our art will surely grab our heart O brother mine, the queerest fish, my dainty dish, your loving sister, Nan. Postum Scriptum Nonsensicum: the Latin psalms are difficult to read and a German translation would be helpful! What a pity this is not a letter but the dullest entry from your darling blister. N.


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