Love Letter Radio is Back

2pm every Saturday at 89.7, KRUI. The second episode of the season features fiction writer Merritt Tierce. Merritt kept a secret WordPress of letters addressed to the girlfriend of the man she was dating, and yesterday, she shared the letters publicly for the first time.  The episode is available for download and listening here. (Be sure to right-click the small “Click here to start download from sendspace” in the small blue box, not the obnoxious ads. At least until I figure out how to establish a podcast.)

Weather, or Not

by B.J. Love

I. Everything worthy of repeating,

my love, seems too embarrassing
to say, even once. For example:

I am a tropical storm, and baby,
you are the unfortunate island
I find myself bearing down on.

II.
I wake up, and it rains. I wake up, and become the
rains. I wake up, and I am rain running the length of
your arm. O to feel you under me in this way!

I want to press my front against your front. I want our
fronts to be just parts of our larger systems. To storm
with you here could be a new kind of cyclone. A new
kind of hail. Goddamn, to be a system this fucking
sexy!

Sound the sirens and grab onto my knees. Darling, if
we are lucky enough to survive this storm I think we
should name it Benjamin. Benjamin, I think, is a very
good name.

Benjamin, we could say, the whole of you has
collapsed into our coasts. Benjamin, we would say,
could you be our greatest disaster? No, Benjamin,
we will say, you are actually shaping up to be our
greatest apology. How we will still make good in this
world.

My love, I am only an accidental cloud-maker. A
depression with little potential. You see, I have never
gotten anyone pregnant, and that this is the only
practical thing I can think to tell you is the saddest
meteorology I can imagine.

Love, keep your television on, and wait for me.

City Static

it’s important for me to say goodbye; even in the most casual of contexts, touching and being touched has meaning to me. so, you mean something.

it’s easy to date in —. you meet people and it’s easy to relate to them as molds in which you can pour your longings and wants, and hope, in some way, they set and become solid. but really, i’ve realized, it’s this selfish way of trying to offset the danger of an undistinguished existence. but you made me feel a very specific desire, specific to you. i’m sadnot to get to know you further. there’s something sore about these hit and runs.

this letter makes sad sounds. but i hope, it’s nice to know, that your noise isn’t lost in city static. that someone really listened to you for a moment.

i’ll leave you alone now.

best.