Not quite the same, but it reminds me of one of my all time favorite authors and all-around human beings is Joey Comeau. He had a project that became a book called Overqualified where he would write cover letters to different companies (and actually sent them until he was told to stop.) A lot of them were hilarious, and they were mostly appropriate to the company he sent them too, but a lot of them were incredibly insightful as well, or told parts of his life. It's incredibly touching. This is my favorite one.

To: Irving Oil Re: The future is ours

Dear Irving,

I am writing to apply for a job with your company, and my assigned mission is to take you down from the inside. Little things, you know? I'm supposed to fudge your tax records a bit, leave you open to audits. Misdirect shipments. Eat away at your profits so that your costs go up, too. I'm here to speed up the peak oil problem, because after that the world starts getting better.

It gets better and better, Irving. By the time I'm born, a hundred years from now, there's no crime. There's no more pollution. Human beings are living to be almost two hundred years old. Every year that number gets bigger. They tell me that means I might live forever.

So I volunteered to be sent into the past. How could any kid grow up, hearing about crime and violence and war and sexually transmitted diseases, and not think, "Fuck, that sounds exciting." My mission is to sabotage you, but really, I want to help you. I don't want to live forever, Irving. I want to live and die and be afraid and excited and injured in a daring rooftop escape.

I spent seventy years sitting around in classrooms just learning. Oh, how can we live longer? Oh how can we make ourselves more perfect? Oh, we're all very wise. But I want to kill something. I want to get drunk in a bar and fuck a dude with a scar down the side of his face. I want a scar down the side of my face. I want to get an alcoholic woman pregnant, and when that little freak squirts out, nine months later, I want to tell him, "Live for today, you retarded little shit. The end is near."

Joey Comeau

When I saw him a few years ago doing a book reading, I had him sign my copy of the book. I said to sign it with whatever he liked. He wrote, "Live for today, you retarded little shit. The end is near."

Goodbye judging all religious people as odd,

I have been angry at religion. I'm tired of seeing people use the bible to set an agenda that seems adamantly opposed to the teachings of Christ. As such, I've fallen away from going to church and I have developed a knee-jerk reaction to assume that people are idiots if they are practitioners of religiosity in any way.

Church goers have numerous motivations for attending. Fellowship, community, friendship and a desire to grow spiritually are all noble things. I just can't stand it when people use "God" as their justification for pushing a political agenda.

I will remain open minded towards "religious" people. I will even strive to pursue that which emboldens my spiritual side and realize that spirituality doesn't need religion and that the religious aren't always void of spirituality.

Bottom line, I'll stop being so damned judgmental and take people on a case by case basis.

I like you I like you too What do you do? I write songs I write songs too What are yours about? They're about God and stuff Mine are about stuff Why not God? God is in the stuff

Dear necktie,

I first learned to loop you around my neck in the weird, near-embrace of my fumbling father as we rushed out the door in our "good clothes" an hour late, itchy for whatever.

In my 20's I learned some other knots. Some Gordian slips along the way taught me that tautness and tension are in the loop of the Adult and that most of the Adult pleasures revolve

around taking it off. As if covering buttons on a button-down, buttoned-up public persona could hide the pubic roots of "you-and-me" interactions or the erections straining against

the conscious effort of "just getting by." Bye necktie. I don't regret un-knotting you, knowing you or the display of my manhood, but I do wish the stranglehold of propriety'd loosen up.

I don't have time to tuck you in for motorcycle rides, eating soup, or when children wish me harm. Take a cue from your gay sibling, the scarf. Live a little and don't get down now that we don't hang

out anymore. You remind one of mortality, a "sign of the cross" like a snake and a fall. Believe me, you're better off well hung in the dry-cleaning bags with my good suits, tailored shirts and mothballs.

Not a letter, but the idea of saying goodbye to a part of ourselves led me to finally conceive this poem I'd been meaning to write for a while.

21

  Upon this day I have reached, perhaps,
  My last formal transition into adulthood.
  I understood 18 signified this somewhat more.  
  
  I could buy alcohol and tobacco. I could  
  vote to chance the political score.  
  But I couldn't really tell what had changed inside.

  Yet, I'm left pondering. 
  Wondering, about the difference between my old self and I.
  Reading of people who are conceding that they
  Don't feel any different to their teens.
  What does being an adult mean?
  Maybe 'adult' is just a noun which means I frown more often...

  However, I've begun to comprehend the difference between
  it all. The dissonance that has emerged between the me
  finishing my degree and the one who was at
  primary school. The spark that hides inside 
  which triggers the fall into 
  the coming of age.

  Simply, it's consciousness.

  That's what's really maturing. And the day
  you realise it's quite abrupt.
  You now have potentially decisive decisions
  You think existentially and you're no longer free.
  You're slave to your mind's questions, each answer
  opening up yet more inquires.

  For answers you seek suggestions as your time
  seems to lessen. Each year a smaller percentage 
  of your life. It's never-ending strife to find
  meaning of what you're seeing in the world. 
  Until one day its unfurled as much as it's allowed.
  And you end the same way you began.

  So I wave goodbye to my innocence of sorts
  But at the same time the new thoughts are welcomed.
  I'm ever fascinated by cognitive and physical
  landscape like I never was before. I still 
  feel that I can tame some of my inner child,
  even though we'll never be the same.

Well, as I'm putting off writing an actual essay, I might as well try.

Dear School,

I know that we have been together for a long time, but I think it might be time for us to consider breaking up. I've known you for about as long as I've known myself and I'm grateful for all that you've given me. I don't know where I would be without you. I'm thankful for everything you've shown me; for putting me in line when I needed it and opening my eyes when I was more comfortable keeping them closed. I wish I had come to this point much sooner, but I'm a stubborn fool. You will always be a part of me, but we've changed and I think we're drifting in different directions.

The last few years have been rough, with our on-again off-again relationship. I can't keep doing this to us and I'm sorry, but I think I finally know what I want. You've helped me realize this, but I fear that I'm being held back. I need to learn and fail and succeed without you as I once did with you. The only thing I need to figure out now is how much longer to stay before leaving. Two years seems like a long time, but I've left too early before. I just hope you understand.