Note from home.

I recently e-mailed a link to Mark Hunstman garnered from Nicholas Mathisen forwarding to Miranda July's website for a collection of stories. It's fantastic. You can check it out, if you like. Any-who, I'd thought I'd share his response, because it made me laugh and for some reason kind of teary. A little background in case you need it: Huntsman is a writer, and more personally, I oft refer to him, for lack of a better (and not callous) way to put it as "the best ex I never had." Enjoy. First, this is what I wrote to him.

From Nicholas, and I had to share.
Might be in town for one night--the 29th. Gavin Roberts is moving to
Louisville (I'm so jealous, I've always wanted to move there--this is
not a joke) and his going away party is at The Duck that night.
Last week, I told the story of meeting you from my boss' fifth story
balcony, and my co-worker didn't believe me. I guess that makes you

And from Hunts:

mbctm : so, hi. i'm playing with making bct your middle name, like a mobster gets his nickname after he's knocked a couple of guys and been made. tommy "the gun" bucco, johnny "sack" imperioli, big "pussy" bompansiero, miranda "busier curve tool" moure, brendan "fuck face" filone, and etc.... see, you almost didn't notice your own name on that list, did you, because it essentially fit in, mbctm. this leads to my larger point---which i'm nervous about even positing, but i believe that you trust me, and the information is weighing on me so much---which is that i've figured out that you are a ganster. seriously, tell me everything. what do you do on these spaced out but regular trips north, these methodical "one-night only" visits to seattle? i mean, obviously, you're a gangster and you can't tell me, it was rhetorical; and anyway it must have to do with drugs and shutting people up. or making them pay. your "curve tool" will be very busy indeed, when, in the dead of the april 29th night, you slip into the markowski residence and make your way to the upstairs bedroom. silently, through the window, the pale moonlight glints off your curve tool as you raise it, poised to strike. poised to get busy. i would love to see you, please let's. i miss you a whole very lot. i just turned my phone on last night for the 1st time in a week; got your message, but then it was my turn at on the musical stage, and i got rather caught up and forgot to call. but look, nobody else was prepared to whip out full sebastian voice and rock under the sea on the karaoke microphone. we've got no troubles, life is the bubbles! under the sea, --m.

On a side note, the middle name thing is far more poignant in our history than you may realize. The morning following our first meeting (the balcony thing is true, by the way) he drove me from Capitol Hill back to my car on Elliot, and on the way I asked him his middle name. This is a common practice for me, as I feel that even from what I assume to be a one night stand, I should get at least one pertinent and somewhat intimate piece of imformation from said party. I usually opt for thier middle name. Anyway, we reached my car, and He wrote down his phone number for me on a piece of an old deposit slip. "Mark William" he wrote, using first and middle rather than first and last. It made me laugh, so instead of merely hopping out of the car to cross the street to my own, I wrote my phone number down in the same fashion: first and middle. Then phone number, of course.
In another recent e-mail to Mark, I realized we had known each other for almost three years now, something I would have never believed would have happened on that particular morning, that one where phone numbers were exchanged along with middle names. I decided to ask him if he remembered it.

"Hey, on a side note--do you remember my middle name?"
"Ha, you can't get me with your trick questions: you don't have a middle name."
"Haha. Yours is William, and I distincly remember writing mine down for you within our first 24 hours of meeting. BTW--it's Moxie."
"mbtcmm :: yes, yes : i remember it too, now, your writing it down for me. ah, for the days when my semi-regular booty-call-in-reverse could so immediately abound with significance and meaning."

Ahh, my middle name. It is in actuality a remnant of what was to be my given name: Mary, and is definitely not BCT. Or Moxie for that matter, although I wish it was.

It's Terese. Three e's, yes, but please only pronounce two.
[p.s.--Dude, Mark--did you really think my middle name was Moxie? Damn, how dope would that be? I am now considering changing my name again. Ironically, that middle name (Terese) was one of my given ones.]

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