Grey Street // H.S.

Dear Harry: Stale Cocoa Puffs

Dear Harry,

It's raining outside and I'm eating stale cocoa puffs. I think this is what being an adult feels like, although I'm not entirely sure because I don't many adults who eat stale cocoa puffs for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It feels like fall here and it's one of the most wonderful things I've experienced. We never really got fall in South Dakota, not like New York gets fall at least. In South Dakota I feel like it's either scorching hot or feet of snow, there isn't much in between.

I'm starting to get used to this city and I don't feel nearly as small as I did before. In fact I'd say I almost have two friends. Technically it's just two people that I occasionally talk to.

1. Frieda, she's the old woman who lives next door to me. She has about four cats and she is an awful, awful, really fucking awful lady. I swear she knocks furiously on my door every day to complain about something I supposedly did. She makes my mother's screaming seem tame and you've seen my mom. I'm truly innocent though, I don't think I've done a single thing she has accused me of. Well, I may have moved her welcome mat once. She's very sensitive about that thing.

2. Morgan, she likes to go by Mo though. I met her in my poetry class. We've only had two conversations that have lasted about five minutes in total. She's from New York, grew up in Queens, and is possibly the loudest person I've ever met. There is something I like about her though.

So those are my "friends", we're a happy bunch.

Work mostly sucks. The hours drag by slowly and I feel like I'm there more than I'm anywhere else which takes away from what I really want to be doing. All I ever feel like doing is painting. This has been great because there have been times where I haven't had the motivation but now the problem is not having the time.

I painted a sign for a store down the block from me last week. They even paid me twenty dollars. It was just a simple sidewalk one but at least I'm getting somewhere. I guess you have to start out small before you can truly be successful. My walls (and floors) are getting a bit overwhelmed with different canvas art so I should probably try to sell some of it. I've never done that before.

I'm still struggling with my poetry class. I was able to easily get through this stuff in high school because, it was high school, but I've found it to be so much more difficult now. I wish it was possible to paint a poem, I have a feeling I would be much more successful at that. If only I could figure out a way to put words to what I paint, maybe I wouldn't have such a difficult time.

We had an assignment earlier in the week where we had to pick a poem, from anyone, and write a short essay about what we thought it meant. I chose Grey Street. I hope you don't mind. It was only for a small college assignment so I figured it wouldn't affect any possible publishing opportunities in the future. My professor really liked it by the way, he was wondering who you were.

I never told you how beautiful it was. I didn't want to admit it for a while because it hurt every time I reread the words. It took me at least a month before I could look at it without feeling overwhelmingly angry. That's how I knew it was good though, it made me feel something. It might have something to do with my possible involvement in the poem but I think it would make other people "feel something" too.

I'm not sure why I'm still writing these letters, it doesn't seem to make a difference. I guess I just hope you're doing okay.

-Ellison

P.S. Frieda's knocking on my door right now. Wonder what it is this time?









...

So yeah... that's a lot of updates. Sorry, I'm just so excited. But I'm going to stop now, otherwise this will be over before we know it.

What do you guys think is going to happen?

Thanks for reading/commenting/voting. You guys are the best.