Dear Sir Deli Man,


I am lonely without you. It’s been a long year already spent longing for your arms. (By the way, do you eat rocks? I swear those biceps look rock solid. In fact, I can’t help but wander into the idea of you bench pressing me, like you might see in an over-the-top anime scene. I have a vivid imagination, what can I say.)

I’ve seen you around town a few times, but I don’t get out much. My intuition tells me that your work place has a policy against fraternizing with customers you become aware of via the store. I am sad, because we made eye contact some time ago and now I think it is just mere fantasy. I doubt it even happened.

I’m going to court soon to hold an irresponsible doctor accountable for nearly killing me. My ego tells me I’ll win, but it’s not that important. I spent all day planning out what I could do if I win the lottery, so to speak, and I have plenty of ideas, including running for mayor. I won’t bore you with all the details. I hope by being mayor I can stop frowning at politicians as much.

My spirit guide, who is a psychic, and yes it’s exactly like that film, told me you have a puppy named Max. I used to have a dog named Max, too, when I lived in St. Louis. He was a dark brown/black pit bull. I was too sick to take care of him some years ago and he was adopted by a friend. I still have three ancient cats that are all about 18 years old, give or take a few months.

The Great Spirit tells me all your secrets. He told me you like to hunt and fish as we walked along one of the ponds at the peninsula. He also told me that I was attracting all the game to me, which would be very lucky for a games man like yourself. I have to warn you that it’s possible I will just squeal in the middle of the forest and chase all my friends away from you. I mean, I am the crazy woman with an ant colony named George flooding my kitchen sink because I finished a jar of jam and left it for them to feast upon. Nature’s little cleanup crew.

I unintentionally watered part of their colony two days ago. I didn’t realize they had built a tertiary nest inside one of my potted planters. I watered the Homebound in the planter and suddenly there was a grand exodus as each and every worker ant picked up eggs and scurried to high ground. They eventually settled down again in the planter and I realized, because I used a clear water jug from your store, I had created my very own ant farm on accident. I don’t know how to serve them their eviction notice. Next time I water the plant, I’m going to do it outside and hope they get the memo.

Something tells me you’d go to a bar in town, but I’ve yet to pick which one I want to try. The Red Fox Inn has a shady reputation, but I love the name. Maybe that’s because I wear pink and black fox ears to pretend I’m a foxey lady. Maybe it’s because I’m not-so-secretly a furry, though I don’t mean that in the sexual connotation people seem to gasp and recoil from. I’ve actually discovered recently that I’m asexual. It doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t be interested in that part of life, it’s that I’m not preoccupied with it like neurotypical people can be. I feel sorry for you if it takes up most of your brain space, it seems to be a common affliction.

I daydream of teaching you reiki and charging a ridiculous amount of cash to teach other people how to do it. I daydream of doing yoga side by side, perhaps at dawn or dusk, watching the sky change colors as we change poses. I daydream of so many things, really… like destroying a couple businesses with illegitimate business practices. They wronged me and I’m ready to hold them accountable for their shyster ways.

I also daydream winning all those court cases, proposing to you, and making you quit the deli because I’m selfish and greedy and want you all to myself to make this comedian act I’ve got in mind: claymation comedians. I love claymation and I have since I was a kid. I loved Claymation Christmas and Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys and who doesn’t love The Nightmare Before Christmas? There are many more, but I got to thinking about how a comedy sketch show done in claymation could be epic. (It might just be epicly bad if you don’t arrive to save me from the doldrums.)

I call myself an imagineer. Long story short, I like to imagine impossibly cool things as future goals and then make the happen by taking many, many baby steps toward them. I’ve been taking baby steps toward this first court case for over a year now, so I’m pretty proud of myself for finally arriving. I mean, there is no date just yet, but it took a lot of energy to force myself to start calling around for representation. I have a lot of anxiety around phone calls. It turns out I have PTSD from holding a job as a 411 operator for three years back in the day. Ever since, I have had a difficult time making phone calls.

I am looking for a roommate or to be someone’s roommate, but I’m painfully shy. That probably explains why I’m not trolling bars to see if this missed connection is more than mere fantasy. My spirit guide, or perhaps my schizophrenia, tells me that I’m seen as a stalker at your place of employment, so I stopped looking for you. I’m not exactly sure how shopping and getting distracted by you existing once equates to stalking, but eh. “I’m not stalking you, son.”

What I hoped for was another bout of eye contact, honestly. I ruined it the second time our eyes would have met under mysterious circumstances by leaving too soon. I had spied you through the front window of the store, doing whatever it is that you do. (You’d think I’d know, as your “stalker.”) You were turning around and I decided I needed to get moving because [insert excuse.]

Because I was scared, duh. I was scared of our eyes meeting from just a few feet away, even though there was a pane of glass in between us, and finding out that I’m really just invisible, after all. I’ve been an invisible girl most of my life. Or at least, I was, until I lost a massive amount of weight. I used to be able to say 150 pounds, but I gained twenty back. I’m still impressed with myself for achieving my goal. However, I’m not impressed with how I nearly died to do it or how I’m backsliding. It sucks.

The Great Spirit has been my friend since I was seven years old. He tells me you were nine at the time. He tells me you saw me hug a tree once in a forest in Pennsylvania somewhere between the lake and Pittsburgh. I was seven and bad at directions, so I hope you’ll forgive me for not knowing exactly where. Wait, sometimes I’m still bad at directions and you’re 41. Does that make me 38 or 39? I can never do time math worth a bean.

The Great Spirit wants you to know that the square root of ketchup is tomato. He said you asked a bunch of people this question and you never get an answer. I hope you like my answer. It took me a few weeks to think of it, but it did eventually come to me. He also laughs on your behalf when I do funny shit, and apparently that’s all the time.

I’ve decided I owe you one million hugs and one million kisses, but I can’t deliver those if I can’t find you, you know. You owe me a Magenta, a Braxis, and some creeping vine plants. I killed them all at his direction as he imitated you for me. I don’t know how I got so lucky as to be on such great terms with The Great Spirit, but… he’s great, y’know? Magenta and Braxis are names I gave some plants that died in horrible accidents that I’d rather tell you about in person so I can include appropriate hand gestures and faces for.

I’m taking all the rest of my plants to the library this week, except for the one with the tertiary George colony. I have 27 of them but I can’t keep up between them, my kitties, and my health, sadly. I was hoping I could lure you away from your job to be my personal chef some day. Maybe masseur, as well, but that depends on how you vibe. I don’t let people who vibe too negatively touch me, it hurts my spirit self. I imagine that’s true for everyone, but they’re not in tune with their metaphysical body yet. I hope to teach the world how to do this, it would save everyone so much time and hassle and, most of all, pain. Anyway, the big cheese said you’re good with plants. I want to see you prove it.

It makes me sad how this world has become so vain these days. It’s actually what makes me afraid of you, I guess. If I was to boil it down to one singular thing, it’s that. Every time I see you, my brain stops moving and I’m switched to the engaged position, where I just receive input without thinking. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I don’t know what to call it at all. I often don’t know the names for things I experience and it makes them harder to quantify and understand. I think it means I like you, but maybe that’s over-simplified. Autism for the confusion!

You know, I hear people talk about autism like it’s a disease. If you talked to my former coworkers about me, they’d probably sing my praises (except like five of them over the course of my career, I think.) I tried my best to do everything in my power to help my teams succeed. Sometimes my best sucks, but I think everyone has that problem. What does it mean to succeed in a deli, I wonder? At any rate, the point is, none of them think I’m autistic at all. I’m not hiding it, though. I literally didn’t know until this year. It’s not a problem to me but antivaxxers make it sound like the worst kind of affliction possible. I’m not afflicted. I am unique and beautiful. I sometimes think I’m the only person who understands that, but I cannot make others see my point of view just because I find it superior. I know that, too. It’s not always superior, either, but it’s a great idea to have some self-esteem, wouldn’t you know.

I tried just as hard at relationships as I did at my career, I thought. That got me nowhere, ultimately. People don’t like to just get along, in my experiences so far. They can’t stand harmony. They feel something negative about it. I’m not sure what, but I chalk it all up to self-loathing. The looks of your soul tells me you’re not so negative and I wonder how you achieve that. Maybe you already have a gal building you up and that’s why. Then I’d really be barking up the wrong tree.

Everything tells me to go for the gold. It’s hard for me to do that due to inhibitions I have picked up along the way. Once in a great while, my inhibitions are “reset” and I return to my base self before I’ve been battered and bruised by people. That happened recently… it hurt, growing up all over again. I forgot to be skeptical about what people tell me, as if lies don’t exist. Lies hurt me. Ignoring reality hurts me.

The Great Spirit told me you’ve served prison time and even made up ten or so stories about why. He says the tattoos on your arm are from that period of time, too. I wish I’d gotten a better look at the tattoos. I like tattoos. As for the prison time… I know why you got sentenced to a jail cell, if it’s true: you did something you shouldn’t have and got caught doing it (OR someone framed you thusly.) That’s why all people go to jail, ultimately. It’s the ones who don’t get caught I’ve find I have to keep an eye on most of all, honestly.

I’ve never been to jail and I hope to never go, but I know if I do end up there, it’ll be for a humanitarian reason because I’ll make it about a humanitarian reason. I’d teach everyone reiki or something out of boredom, I just know it. I’m like that, giving myself a purpose when there is no purpose to be found.

I wish I’d never gotten so sick that I had to give up my career. On the other hand, I wish I gave up my career sooner and found you instead. Even if I don’t win any court cases, there are other options to explore. I could teach you the ins and outs of the career I used to have, even. I bet someone would hire you to save a buck. In five years, you’d be senior level expertise, and then someone would hire you at full price because the tech field is weird like that. I can’t do meetings anymore. My ability to schedule my time is completely compromised.

I went to the beach last week and picked up a bunch of rocks from the shoreline. I arranged the rocks to look something like the Playboy logo except much sillier and I left it on a bench at the peninsula. I went back today and it was gone! Somebody stole my beach bunny!!!!! I haven’t seen a single person use any of those benches at the boat launch and yet it disappeared. It wasn’t scattered on the ground, either. It was simply gone. I’m a little warped and very twisted and I hope you can appreciate that shit because that’s 99% of what I do all day every day. I make funny things up and I write.

[Insert beach bunny here]

This letter is really longer than I intended, yet there’s still so much to say. I’m trying to use the Law of Attraction presently to see if it will bring you my way or not. It worked for my friend in India, Tarang. He was missing his first love, he calls her. This kid is so cute, he’s like 16 and he talks like he’s loved and lost like a 30 year old. Anyway, he told me all about this girl and it just so happened his mom ended up getting her mother’s phone number the same day he tried to use the Law of Attraction, so I figure, why not? Maybe it’s just coincidence. Maybe it works.

My life is magical, no matter how I dice it. Weird stuff(TM) happens to me all the time, such as finding a cooked steak in the oven that nobody claimed was their own in the household, my computer retaining power while unplugged for a night, my worldly possessions following me home after I gave up on them completely, and so much more. Animals have always gravitated to me, wild or tame. People who have crotchety old pets look at me like a messiah because their cats and dogs that hate everyone seek me out. Animals I take care of live longer than most, including newts that were originally wild and brought into captivity inside of an aquarium/terrarium combination. Those were given to me by friends and they lasted me five years and some change. I’m not sure how long newts normally last, but I would have thought they’d expire much, much sooner, especially since they were found in the wild.

Maybe it’s because I always look at entities to see their health. I look in the mirror to see if my eyes are bright or dull, I check my skin for uneven skin tone and flaking, so on and so forth. I check other people for similar. I feed myself and pets on as close to a schedule I can keep and I try to make sure we love what we’re eating and get good variety. I’ve always cared more about health than vanity. I have yet to find another human being (that’s single) like me. I hope you’re one of them. I know they must exist. My chiropractor was one of them.

I started seeing a chiropractor because I was in a car accident that destroyed my neck when I was 19. It used to be a student/friend, but I got tired of her laughing about how she caused pain while giving an adjustment, so I swapped to my acupuncturist that I saw to try to repair some of the nerve damage in my face. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I’m hideously beautiful and unscarred? Sorry, happens all the time. The nerve damage came from Bell’s Palsy in my childhood. The thing is, having half your face paralyzed messes with your brain when you’re smiling and your lips aren’t, or you’re smiling and one eye completely closes. I had enough of that shit about ten years ago, so I went to Doctor Steve, a true healer in my books. In fact, I’m going to emulate his business model and open a healing business. I’m pretty sure I can charge $1/minute (or more, honestly) to either teach or heal patients. I also thought about calling it an emotional well-being clinic because I’ve thought of six or seven services I can provide. There’s always room for a +1, by the way!

In fact, on that topic, I had some hypothesizing about a successful platform for running for president. I don’t think I want that job because it sounds really stressful, but the first thing I’d do is reform voting so it makes sense. Goodbye electoral college, hello direct democracy. “You don’t need a president, but if you want one, I’m right here.” (The Great Spirit laughed at that, anyway.)

Or I could be the mayor… I’d beautify the city completely and redo all the crappy traffic lights in this god forsaken town we live in. We call ourselves a tourist city but it’s so hard to navigate. I’d update all the signs to be huge and next to the traffic lights, for one thing. I’d add roundabouts in risky intersections where nobody likes to stop which would increase gas mileage for the masses, I’d add a bunch of turn arrows all around the city, too. Like on Broad Street near McDonald’s… I can’t believe there’s no right turn arrow action there from Elm. The locals know you can right on red for a few seconds, but no tourist will ever assume that. I’d love to send all the civil engineers to St. Louis to see how it’s done, let me tell you. I noticed at one of the interstate on ramps, it indicates the east ramp is actually the west ramp and vice versa. That needs fixed if we want tourists. A lot of things do, I realized as I drive around town. That’s really the only reason I want to run for mayor. To fix these crappy roads. I mean, Mercyhurst doesn’t even have a left turn arrow from westbound 38th street. It could use a pressure plate to activate a left turn arrow so that when it’s graduation time the cars can actually get in instead of backing up the street for two blocks. I just think too much, undoubtedly.

If any of this thinking actually appeals to you, I’ll be in the bars around town, trying not to get date raped by assholes who aren’t even my date.

XO XO
Sansara
Foxey Lady
Crystalline

https://www.patreon.com/ssolsinger


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