"Ms. Breslin,
I ran across your blog somewhat recently (and somewhat randomly), but over a relatively short period of time you have come to strike me as one of the most insightful and sincere writers I have read in a very long time. I include not just bloggers, but also legitimate theatre writers (writers of 'books,' which I read). [Has any writer ever described herself as 'illegitimate?']
Back to where I was going… As soon as most blogs achieve some level of critical/commercial success, the blog posts tend to spiral towards the anticipated, the cliché, the doppelganger making fun of itself in the webcam. You and your blog exceed these dismal expectations. You think before you post, or while you post, or whatever: Actual thought (not just offhand response) is apparent in each of your posts (which, considering their volume, is remarkable). And it doesn't just appear,
it typically adds value, and meaning.
[I should probably mention here that I am a gay-gay-gay college professor without a blog of my own, and no interest (commercial or otherwise) in the continued success of your blog beyond my own desire to keep reading it.]
Your voice is distinct and unique because (I think) it is uniquely personal: It displays the ambiguity and temporal and sublime malleability of the human spirit, distilled through a filter of (I think) post-modern-yet-ancient sexuality.
If you have not read Harold Bloom's 'Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human,' (which most sane people with lives have not) you may not understand this reference, but I believe you have a voice which understands its age in the same way Shakespeare understood his age: It is not an age—we are human. Humanity is, essentially, timeless: We may blog while our frozen coffee drinks melt, but we would really rather be fucking like our caveman ancestors, our ancestral pilgrim settlers, our slave-owning forebears, and our white-trash in-laws. It's our way. (It's mine, anyway.)
In short, thanks for a great blog. You make me think about myself and my relationship to the world I live in. How many writers can say that? And I could give a rat's ass about where Anderson C0oper puts his cock. How many gay blog readers can say that?
Best,
[redacted]
P.S. I address you as Ms. Breslin because I'm a southerner, and we've never met, not because I want you to be my dominatrix, as I suppose, by now, you've gathered. Happy summer."
