Open letter to Justin George Watson Ph.D

Well,
It’s finally happened. I am one of those lucky people who can say that at the age of twenty-six all of my worse fears for myself have officially come true. In the course of a week a friend I used to sit across from and laugh with has dropped dead of heart failure at thirty-five, my publisher has dropped me, AND a notice has come from my first choice university that they are rejecting me for the second time.

To top this off I have abandoned the faith of my childhood and, more than having difficulties with I, I simply don’t believe in it. I can tell when all the pagan holidays are coming up because, time to admit it, I’ve been one for years, and even worse, I’ve become a Protestant. Worse still, and Episcopalian. I’m anti-gun, pro-gay marriage. I think, gulp, that I might slowly be turning pro-choice (up to a point) Or worse yet, pro-I-don’t-really- know- and-don’t-much-care. I have become of those liberal Christians that I used to hear maligned as atheists and syncretistic.

I have no sustainable income and I live with my mother and father. Far worse, I must admit that I enjoy it, and that I enjoy the Midwest. I, who like Jerusalem was once the Queen of Cities, have become a toiling slave, content to ride public transit and attend public university while practicing Buddhism and druidry, and then skipping off to Anglican Mass.

And then there are the animals. I do not know how many I have anymore. The official count is two: a lab mix and a Scottish terrier who takes the MOST inopportune times to yap yap yap. But there are also mice who come to visit no matter how many traps we set out, not to mention (well, I’m going to mention) the things I hear bumping in the walls and the attic and then that whole bird problem that happens in the summer time.

I mention all of this because, though I try to deny the evidence, I am happy. Not content, but happy. I have more than the required daily does of happiness for an American citizen. And we are not a happy people. I mention all of this because I know many people who have every single thing they ever wanted, and they are still the most miserable sons of bitches in the world.

I’m not entirely sure what to make of that.

I will be by to visit Easter week and discuss in full EVERYTHING that has happened.

Yours,
Chris Gibson.

P.S. Even as I type this I realize it’s too good NOT to be a blog post