Updates

22^nd October of 2010

Dear Cassi,

Well, I haven't been writing as much because of how much I've had to get done this week. It's been a total hell getting the webcomic set up at a new site. I registered the second comic yesterday, and it too should be up in a week, but I have to do banner art for both comics now. On the one hand I've learned to expedite and on the other I've more to do. It never ends, does it?

Regardless, I have to make the comment that I was not aware my letters were private. Especially with the situation that you are talking to your doctor or counselor I think its okay for you to show them to people. Who I am and what I have been through are things I intend to document for posterity. I may be a man of little presence in the world, but I can tell you that I feel at a loss not knowing what my mother's life was like. Somewhere in my thinking I've wish there was a volume to tell her story. It would be easier for me to get through the world knowing the folly of my parents. Did my mother struggle with faith, or was she even religious? Did she practice Judaism as a link to the past, or as a way of life?

One day I may show these letters to my own children, if I have any, to tell them who I was. It's important to know. Often, I sift through the bits and pieces of the past in order to remember, and to let go. The house I live in feels more like my mother's crypt than it does a home, and I had even thought of one day excavating it like an archeologist putting every bit into a catalog. That idea has long been given up, and it was one of the stupider of mine. Such an act would have been paralyzing in complexity, and damned near impossible without a few grad students to use as slave labor. You must excuse me; I've grown cynical on the topic of higher education.

On another topic, I again say that if anyone who served with (your ex-husband) would like the share their story I'd love to hear it. They would make great research. I make it a point to listen to any veteran I come across. For one they often have a story to get off their chest, and for another I feel like a richer man for the knowing of their strife. Some of it may end up in my writing one day, but either way I just like to hear it.

In other news, I have my new workstation set up and now I can work from the drafting desk with all the resources I have on the computer. Swapping out the hard drive without a boot disk was a pain, and it took four hours. Then came another hour of working on the internet connection. The Lenovo software couldn't talk to my system hub, so I had to switch it back to a windows connection. It took that long because I had to do this through trial and error. The new rig is more efficient and versatile, but still only hampers my ability to draw slightly. I should be more productive now, and get most of my business put away by the end of the month. Hmmm, well, no, maybe by the end of next month, but these things take time.

Another thing that takes time is washing the dog. August has shampoo that needs to sit on his fur for ten to fifteen minutes. Well, last weekend I had Paul help me with washing the dog, and he was just irate over having to wait holding Gus. I have no delusion that there are folks who want to hold on to a wet dog. The thing smells bad, and it keeps shaking off the water. So I do understand his feeling, but Paul was overreacting. He said that "next time someone gives me a dog I'm going to kick their ass," as if people hand him dogs from time to time as a pleasantry. Dog's aren't like fruitcake, people don't go about re-gifting them every year hoping not to get them back again. I fear I'll be soon left to look after the dog on my own. The other day, Paul wanted me to walk August in my work uniform, of all things, and right after I had gotten off shift. Well, enough of my problems.

Stiff upper lip, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal