Status: In Progress <3
Letters to Jack
Five
December 1st, 2012
Jack,
I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the good news, shall we? I met with a landlord on Tuesday afternoon, and I now own a full-sized one-bedroom apartment complete with separated living room and kitchen areas and a bathroom (with a real shower, which is a godsend after so many years of using the shower on the tour bus) and our bedroom. She handed over the keys, and now all that’s left is to sell my studio apartment and buy some nicer furniture. I’m very excited! We may be together sooner than I expected.
It seems as though with every piece of good news, there is bad news that must accompany it. The bad news is, Jack, that I am writing you this letter from my bed in the hospital. I don’t expect to stay here too long, but they’re not sure how long I must stay before I’m admitted to go back home.
I would tell you why I’m in the hospital, but even to me that is a mystery. I had very bad head and stomach pains on Wednesday, and decided after some Advil, waiting, and no results that I should seek medical attention. Apparently, that was a good idea on my part because as soon as I finish writing this letter, I will be wheeled down to the operating room so they can do some kind of thing to my stomach. (Honestly I zoned out a bit thinking of you when they explained it to me, oops.)
Don’t panic, though, because this surgery should cure everything and then we will be together. Speaking of Don’t Panic, I heard that the album release went wonderfully? Number 6 on the Billboard Charts is freaking amazing, and I’m proud of our little baby. (The album, that is, adoption comes later…but only if you’re interested in that kind of thing. It’s too bad I’m writing this in pen; just forget I wrote that okay?)
Wish me luck in this surgery, I think the nurses are getting impatient but I insisted that I needed to write you another letter in case something were to go horribly wrong (not that I am anticipating an accident, I just like to be prepared.)
I will be thinking of you the whole time I’m in there and I’ll try to write to you as soon as I come out.
Love always,
Alexander William Gaskarth
Jack,
I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the good news, shall we? I met with a landlord on Tuesday afternoon, and I now own a full-sized one-bedroom apartment complete with separated living room and kitchen areas and a bathroom (with a real shower, which is a godsend after so many years of using the shower on the tour bus) and our bedroom. She handed over the keys, and now all that’s left is to sell my studio apartment and buy some nicer furniture. I’m very excited! We may be together sooner than I expected.
It seems as though with every piece of good news, there is bad news that must accompany it. The bad news is, Jack, that I am writing you this letter from my bed in the hospital. I don’t expect to stay here too long, but they’re not sure how long I must stay before I’m admitted to go back home.
I would tell you why I’m in the hospital, but even to me that is a mystery. I had very bad head and stomach pains on Wednesday, and decided after some Advil, waiting, and no results that I should seek medical attention. Apparently, that was a good idea on my part because as soon as I finish writing this letter, I will be wheeled down to the operating room so they can do some kind of thing to my stomach. (Honestly I zoned out a bit thinking of you when they explained it to me, oops.)
Don’t panic, though, because this surgery should cure everything and then we will be together. Speaking of Don’t Panic, I heard that the album release went wonderfully? Number 6 on the Billboard Charts is freaking amazing, and I’m proud of our little baby. (The album, that is, adoption comes later…but only if you’re interested in that kind of thing. It’s too bad I’m writing this in pen; just forget I wrote that okay?)
Wish me luck in this surgery, I think the nurses are getting impatient but I insisted that I needed to write you another letter in case something were to go horribly wrong (not that I am anticipating an accident, I just like to be prepared.)
I will be thinking of you the whole time I’m in there and I’ll try to write to you as soon as I come out.
Love always,
Alexander William Gaskarth