Letters from Russell

by Lydia Stux

This is Part two of Outlines' four-part series of excerpts from Imagine That: Letters from Russell, correspondence from Russ Harold in San Francisco to Lydia Stux in Chicago.

August 1983
It's time that I get down to brass tackies and crank a missive out. I promise that it will be twice as long and twice as good as yours. So.

Q. Do you know what the worst thing about oral sex is? A. The view!

So, the joke was bad. Don't consider shooting me because it's not my joke. I will gladly provide the name of the person who told me the joke and you can fight it out between yourselves. You mentioned in your last letter that I seemed a bit down. I have been constantly sick this year, one thing right after another. "Why?" I rage. "Why the fuck am I always sick?" "Is there something about my body that is deteriorating?" "Am I going to become suddenly very sick, perhaps unto death?" Medical personages are consistently mistaken about what will happen next, breaking what little trust I ever had in them. I see the good doctor on the average of once a week, enduring test after unpleasant test, all of which are negative, all of which indicate I am in good health, yet I am not. Right now, I have been sick for about a month, and they can only tell me it must be the flu. At first they said it was bronchitis, but upon examination, they realized that it was strep throat. The test for that came back negative, the penicillin caused me to take on the appearance of a chipmunk. Everything coming back negative. We have examined my diet, and nothing is amiss. So, what the fuck is going on?

May 23, 1984
We went to the zoo last Sunday. I ask you, do I have two heads? Why were all those tourists staring and taking pictures? Swear to Goddess, honey, we behaved ourselves and everything. I guess we were (a) terribly interesting, (b) terribly strange, or (c) terribly threatening. Of course, it may have been my t-shirt. It says: Welcome to California. Now, go home.

July 11, 1984
A Baritone Soliloquy from "Henry XXIII" as done by Richard O'Toole Madam; I do entreat you!

In the name of Goddess and the Holy Name of St. Schwartz, I beg your generous pardon upon the slight which I caused by my ignoble, ingrateful, unthinking conduct. I conceive no ill-will from mine own part, for I harbor none, but honeyed affections from first your name is mentioned; long for nothing less than your mirrored face lit with a greeting. Yet, e'en in this state of grace did I fall from your nectared graces. How so, sweet madam, how so?

I refer, your madamship, to thine salutory passage, "Much affection, huh? You been wearing that leather stuff too tight?" In my innocence, I beg further speech to make clear my transgression, so that I may do proper penance.

Should'st it be "Much Affection," which I use as of habit in place of "XOXOXXX," I should'st be struck dumb. Such a phrase of grand feelings did'st sum and total my feelings. Think'st thou that I meant it not, that I did'st perjure myself in the uttering, as in a common saw which is danced "Let's have lunch" when neither will have hunger that great? Not so, Madam, for my affection genuine was sent richly. Perhaps would'st thy offense be centered upon my garb of "tight leather"?

Madam, I beseech thee, leather worn is worn for naught if worn loosely, for leather is worn for support and protection, nay, e'en for the bawdy look of it. Yet, mayhaps it is the true choice of the wearing which doth much offend. The expensive accoutrements therein contained, the investment undertaken, doth prohibit the discardment of rainments for lack of others to attire my naked form. In this I do beg your pardon, yet my rainments do remain unchanged.

Whatever the offense, know that you do live in my heart. Often do I remember how dear you are to me. Know this only and you need not know more.

Dec. 1, 1984
First of all, allow me to thank you for the delightful birthday card. Would you believe it, I had forgotten that it was my birthday until I received your card. I turned 31 and didn't even remember it! That, of course, is the proverbial load of crap. I remembered, but I didn't particularly care to celebrate. Also, I couldn't afford the usual annual bash, so I just sat home. Alone. No one to remind me of how wonderful I am. I had to work that day and couldn't get out of it. My boss chose that day to fire me. Said it was just a gut level feeling that I wasn't going to work out for them. I was a ball of agitation for the entire night. I felt that the day had been so terrible that anything I tried to do was simply going to be a waste of time because it would just fuck up. Watched TV and plotted my next move.

I got the want ads, started looking for anything that wasn't in an office in front of a computer. Found an ad for an editor/writer for a local magazine. I figured something was shady because they wouldn't tell me the name of the magazine when I called. I traveled out of the city to a place called Mill Valley (Home of B.J. on M.A.S.H.) There I was met by probably the lowest, low life I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. His magazine was called Fling, a magazine for women with "Big Tits" and men who love "Big Tits." He wanted to know if I liked women with, oh, I can't say it again! Every word that I found disgusting he found essential to communication. I had taken several examples of my work, but I don't have to tell you that he didn't even glance at them. All he wanted to know was if I liked women with ___________ and how familiar I was with porno stars. Thank God he didn't offer me the position because I was so desperate to have an income, I might have been tempted. No, no, no, no, no, no, I just couldn't have done it. Sooner or later, I would have been discovered. I couldn't care less about ___________ no matter how big her _____ are.

July 1986
In the past, I have written long passionate accounts of the ARC/AIDS Vigil. I believe that I took you down to the site while you were here. There is a reason, beyond Samaritan goodness, that I have chosen this cause. I have the AIDS antibody. I have a 20% chance of coming down with something identifiable as AIDS. Nothing is known, other than it is certainly a factor in my future health. If I eat right, sleep, avoid stress, etc., my chances increase. But, I face that 20% no matter what. Long term, what they know now says that my chances decrease. I learned shortly before you came. Perhaps you hadn't a clue, and this comes as distressing news. If so, I am sorry to shock you, to bum you out. But, I thought you should know.

Gerber/Hart Library welcomes Lydia Stux on Friday, Nov. 7, at 7:30 p.m., for a reading from "Imagine That: Letters from Russell." This program is free and open to the public. Gerber/Hart is located 3352 N. Paulina St. in Chicago. Call (773) 883-3003.

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