letters to tolstoy
Dear Leo, our last meeting was rather rushed. I didn’t have a proper pen and paper to take down your innermost thoughts as you had promised, plus you were in a very big hurry to get on that train. You nearly forgot to pay for the tea we had as we chatted over the merits of sex and the perils of home and hearth.
I wanted to tell you as you were rushing away, that my mind has been unable to cope with the infinite platitudes of those around me. I know you have often felt the same way, seeking a life more visceral and less, shall we say, provincial, despite your installment at your family’s sprawling estate.
The last time we met, you told me I should love again and that it was my inability to unfurl my parasol at the right time to catch the gaze of a passing gentleman. That comment alone sounds like you hung out with Rilke, but we both know how that meeting turned out. Hey, I meant to ask you, did you talk about parasols when you met him?
Anyway, I was thinking as I watched you rush towards the platform that I might unfurl my parasol for the right man, but the right man has never presented himself to me, and that could be, as I have told you, that we don’t have parasols anymore. We call them umbrellas and no one carries them even when it rains.
Sure, everyone keeps saying I’ll find someone one day. Or when I’ve decided I want someone, but honestly, I am not clear on the ins and outs of the finding part. I watch people chase their happiness around like a pen full of spring chickens until they finally catch one, kill it and then want another one that might taste better.
Oh sure, I know how you feel about happy families and unhappy families, but what I wanted to ask before you left so quickly was, what did you really mean by happy and unhappy in the same ways?
You are always so close to telling me why, and then you have to rush off somewhere again, and this makes me wonder, Leo, do you know? Or is that simply the best first line in a book you have ever written?
I have to tell you, Leo, no one really knows for sure, and now you’ve made people think they know, which has created countless arguments and animated dinner conversations. There are endless Reddit posts on the subject - and no, we haven’t had a chance to talk about Reddit yet.
Everyone is not happy, and everyone who is happy is on the brink of unhappiness, so no one really knows if they are happy or unhappy. Humans are insanely predictable, no matter how much we like to pretend otherwise, so your famous first line needs some decoding for our next conversation.
Until we meet again Leo, thanks for the chat, and if it isn’t too much trouble, could you please bring me a parasol to unfurl?