Category Archives: Open Letters

Dear Drunk Guy Who Showed Me His Asshole In Front Of A Liquor Store In May of 2008

Just so you know, I have still not forgotten about you, but whatever point it was you were trying to make about my disdain for whatever nationality you were is still as lost on me now as it was then.

I promise to be nice to everyone forever if you can assure me we will never meet under those same circumstances again.

– J.D. Renaud

Dear Girl In Giant Pants I Saw Fall Down In The Middle Of The Sidewalk While You Were Walking With Your Boyfriend

Word Count – 500

Thank you for making my day just a little more special.

I was in a bit of a bad mood as I was trailing you two down the sidewalk. A little worried about finances, politics, women. General malaise, I guess you could say. Then I saw you, in your tank top and parachute panted glory, fall down in the middle of the street. Hard. You were holding hands with your boyfriend, who was not paying attention and did not catch you. He did not even make an attempt to catch you, as a matter of fact. He was busy staring at a poster taped to a pole for a concert that happened four weeks ago.

I was watching the entire time, but was too far away to have provided any assistance. I walked past you both and attempted eye contact to see if you were alright, but quickly looked away once I heard you two ‘talking’ to each other. You both made a series of groaning noises to signify that the afternoon walk would be temporarily delayed. Instead of moving aside and seeking refuge, you both sat in the middle of the sidewalk and waited out the pain. Your boyfriend actually poked your shoulder to see if it would hurt. Based on your reaction, I assume it did. As he helped you up, neither of you said anything that could be construed as english, but the general attitude from both of you was one of confusion and annoyance. He, for not understanding why the walk suddenly had to interrupted, and you, wondering why your arm, the one he was still holding, suddenly hurt so much for some reason.

In a perfect world, I would like to imagine that neither of you were drunk or high. I would truly love it if you two were merely stricken dumb for your love of one and other, and now require constant supervision from the other in order to survive. Perhaps his less than speedy reaction was attributed to an incident I had not witnessed, such as him walking into a mailbox up the street that you failed to warn him was quickly approaching. I hope this fantasy reality I have created gives you some solace as you continue to shamble your way around this big, crazy world.

One small word of advice before I go. You’re five foot nothing and wearing sandals, do you really think you should be wearing size 62 length pants? They had to have been at least two inches longer than you were from head to toe. May I suggest some casual capri’s, or perhaps a modest seasonal skirt? Unless of course you were on your way to a belated fourth of July celebration (in Canada), and were just about to pick up your stilts and fake beard to complete your Female Uncle Sam Meth Addict uniform, in which case, pay no mind to this comment. I’m apparently just talking out my ass.

– J.D. Renaud

Dear Homeless Woman Who Asked Me For $3000 On The Subway

Word Count – 540

Lady, I admire your gumption.

You were not the only beggar in the station that day, but you were certainly the one driving the hardest bargin. I’ll be honest, I was a bit taken aback when you first posed the question to me. I even made a motion towards my wallet, which I’m sure you saw. I imagined for a moment that I was actually wealthy and crazy enough to afford such an expense, before suddenly realizing that, in fact, I was not. Quickly putting my hands back to my side, I politely told you no, but it was said in a way that it had never been said before and has yet to be said again. Gone were the usual lies and apathetic tones detracting me from the person propositioning me. For once, I did not have what you were asking for, and I desperately wished that I did.

There have been countless times when other homeless people have asked me for “a dollar” or “anything you can give me”, but you, stern and defiant, were sure of yourself and dropped all the formalities. A dollar was not going to help you. You were covered in a filth that dollar store soap was not going to fix, so why bother asking for something that is not going to fix the problem? Homeless people don’t need loose change, they need cold hard cash for first and last months rent. They need at least three grand to even begin getting their shit together.

It had never dawned on me how right your were to approach me in the way you did. I admire a staunch realist who sticks to their ideals in a crisis. One has to assume you did the math in your head, and concluded that it was worth the time and effort to ask the same number of people for three thousand dollars than it was to ask them all simply for one. Surely a massive portion of them were going to ignore you outright, but on the off chance that just one eccentric millionaire was riding the subway that day and took a shine to your spunky negotiation skills, boom, you’re all set!

Your condition reminds me of the desperate middle aged men in clubs and bars all across the country who ask every woman they meet to have sex with them. Even if 99% of them scream “rape!” and run away, every so often they beat the odds and trick some poor woman into copulating with their sad, delusional bodies. If you have anything close to the success rate and the tenacity that these men show, I’m sure you’ve since met your goal and are no longer the Shelley “The Machine” Levene of public transportation.

I will never claim to know what it is like to be homeless and at the end of my rope, but I would like to think that if life handed me the shitty end of the same stick you held, I would do as you did and play the odds. You never know when you might meet someone as crazy as you.

– J.D. Renaud