An Ode to Letters and a Love of Writing Them

Words by Matthew Spence:

Dear Homie,

I bet you were thinking to yourself when you saw this envelope in the cluster of mail, “Dear God, is this a ransom note or jury duty?” Well, do you feel lucky enough to want to keep reading? That’s good because it’s neither of those. Jury Duty is the other white envelope, though.

Just kidding, how you doing, yo? Dope? Decent? Decently Dope? I hope so; I want to see everyone around me shining and prospering. Especially when we clean the smudge off our glasses and see where the country is heading, we can’t even get in where we fit in. Instead, hold on so we don’t fall off, but I digress. It’s been a couple of weeks, yo, since we’ve talked, yo. Granted, it wasn’t for that long and wasn’t really about much, but I’m still trying to figure out if the toothpaste disc cleaning technique actually worked or not.

Anyway, I figured I’d keep you updated on my end over here. I’ve been good. I’m planning on dying hair next week, turning 26 towards the end of the month (but you know that already, just give me CDs and a cardigan), and I reached a moment of emotional clarity. I’ll save that for an in-person convo though. It feels like a lot happening in many departments of my life, but yet so little at the same time. It’s like my productivity constantly battles my aloofness. Getting shit done and constantly trying to do so much but doing it one step at a time. But, you know what I’ve been thinking about yo? 1. I don’t trust doctor/dentist offices who have old issues of magazines on their waiting room coffee table. Like dawg, all this money thrown at you like MLB Championship-winning strikes, you can at least get a subscription to Vanity Fair or Time. #2 and not least, we’re (being Gen-Z that is) a class of beneficiaries for Youth in Revolt. There’s a natural and inevitable switch that gets flipped on among a generation to divide and separate from Modernism, leading to Post-Modernism (in essence at least). While others keep that shit off, cause conformity and comfortability for cheaper on the mental electric bill.

There’s that spark in every generation to step aside against societal norms, for the norm can be pretty fucking dull, lame, perhaps overstimulating, or downright awful depending on the subject (many examples to give, but save your attention for a college course to learn all that). No space is left empty, from politics to religion, and so on. On the side of the dinner table: the arts/culture/lifestyle. Pushing back to go forward is the healthiest thing we can do as individuals to sustain mobility and sanity when we get too conditionalized to society’s fuckery disguised as normality. Talking about our generation <insert riff> and everyone around my age, we’ve inherited the mindset of “Life is so-so, fuck it!” and have been going back to the basics of life and before. We’re 2000s kids looking for the simpler times, and it’s written all over us. However, our post-modernist take on “defiance” isn’t necessarily about inventing the wheel but also about borrowing your neighbor’s and forgetting to give it back to them. Some may feel that we smoked a nostalgia-laced blunt, and we feel things were all peaches and hallmarks in the past.

But it’s not that. Hell, we all know how fucking bonkers the world was then, now, and even in the foreseeable future. However, in an age so reliant on technology, overstimulation, and AI fear is among us, and Spielberg levels of tech make life convenient in many facets, yet, there’s still a level of fulfillment. Everything is so fast-paced that you can barely stop to appreciate the elements in every piece of life/culture we encounter. Certain pieces of clothing don’t have vibrant colors as some from the past do. People in Gen Z (and possibly younger) have been asking, “Can it be all so simple?” and wish to go back in culture. People are giving up iPhones for flip phones, fixing up iPods, and ditching streaming services. Physical media is being kept alive as much as it can in many forms (CDs, vinyl, VHS, etc.), VHS camcorders, Polaroids, fashion, the sound of music, and soon possibly slang. Do we miss 2006? Just slightly. But that’s what happens when you binge nostalgia commercial compilations.

Turn the page over yo  ——>

As you’ve guessed, I’ve adopted another act for my Youth in Revolt, writing letters. I’ve been getting into writing letters lately. Like this one to you, yo! By the way, I hope you’ve made yourself comfortable reading this letter. I feel like when people read letters, they’re always standing up. Oh well. Writing letters and sending them to the homie, but I want to extend and send them to other friends. Reach out in a more authentic way. Something much sweeter than the honey Winnie the Pooh indulges in. Now, I can imagine you checked your mail, saw this, and thought, “Bitch, why are you writing me like a Shawshank inmate? Just text me like a normal person, you geezer.” Sure, I can do that, but fuck you, it’s charming, and I don’t wanna flood the DMs. I’m already annoying in real life; no need to translate it to other mediums, but even if I did, isn’t that why ya love me?

Seriously though, I’ve gotten a new appreciation for letters. It’s one of the few skills I learned in school as a kid and chose to relearn as an adult. Now it wasn’t some random idea necessarily, as the algorithm on YouTube led me to a video that helped give me the idea to do so. And I regret nothing from that night. There’s something more companionable about more than ever. In a time of easy access to just text, call, and FaceTime someone, writing a letter to someone is a classic form of communication that’s now an undervalued alternative. Shit, most of the letters, if not all of the letters we get are either bills or job rejections. Even then, you get that shit through email now. So to sit down, write pen to paper to let someone know how you’re doing, and hope they’re ok is something that can’t be lost. There’s more effort; it’s communication more personified. It’s the Ill Communication the Beastie Boys were probably talking about.

Digital communication lost its luster in some ways. We can get numb to all of it, and in some way we have. Sure, its’ quickness and efficiency are dope; let’s not get ungratefully twisted. But there’s only so many times you can send “I love you” (whether platonically or romantically) before it becomes lost in the bubble. Even when your heart is pumping through every letter, it feels like it’s limiting in emotional expression. Stopping at your local post office, getting an envelope and a stamp, and sitting at home listening to your bomb-ass “Summer Night In” playlist while writing down your thoughts to let your loved one know that you’re still there for them adds an extra HP to your bond

.

Now, I don’t only wanna portray sincerity like it’s a somber A24 movie; you can treat it like a fun art project, yo. FUCK AN EMOJI: Deck out your letter in stickers, drawings, and sketches, and add a funny, snappable joke. Send a homie a weekly list of “Songs in your Rotation.” Why not start a game of Tic-Tac-Toe and let them resend with their move and go back and forth? It doesn’t need to be a Dear John love letter or a Good Will Hunting goodbye, but it could be. It’s whatever you have in your mind to share. The world is yours. It’s a slight relic of the past, like high-wheel bikes and Zunes. Now, it’s never gonna go away. We’d be damned to be doomed if it did. If a Y2K collapse happened tomorrow, we’d have to start from square one, so it’s not endangered but unappreciated. Some of the best hip-hop songs are about letters for a reason, yo.

Now, more than ever, we are in the red zone being too caught up in digital; some people may need a reminder that tangible stuff is important. Simplicity can be more helpful than advancement. To be able to save a piece of your life, whether important or a small detail. Preserve, archive, and treasure things like that. And don’t get me started on pen pals, mainly because I’ve never had one. But I can start, and so can you. I’m rambling, yo; I hope you’ve been well. See ya next week at….. JK, you know damn well I’m staying my ass home, but I’ll call you later that night to tell you I’m glad I stayed home.

Peace,

Matthew

P.S.

Yo, I just recently found out I’ve been using the word “salacious” EXTREMELY wrong for months now. I thought it meant something along the lines of “controversial/negative.” Like “VladTV covers salacious stories.” Come to find out, it’s about being turned on and horned up, more so associated with sex. I swear I thought I knew what it meant. I even said it in an interview. Dawg. Dude. Whelp.