The following email is a response from Andrea to Maggie, who wrote in an earlier note: "I am very excited to get out of here. Maybe I won't come back from the land of cheese. You might get a postcard from me... it will go something like this. 'Andrea... I've scored a job on a cheese farm. Meet me out here. The men are handsome and the cows are plentiful... Wish you were here! Margaret.'" (In case you're unclear, she's talking about Wisconsin.) Send your wistful hypothetical postcards to firstname.lastname@example.org.
--- Michael Neault
From: Andrea Kornstein
Sent: Friday, August 12, 2005
To: Margaret Jacobstein
Subject: RE: FW:
push-pop- it's like someone's been transmitting radio waves directly into my hypothalmus and extracting my dreams. and then typing those dreams into the body of their emails and unfurling my fantasies before my own eyes. and the someone in this scenario is you. margaret.
how i've longed to run away to wisconsin with you. we'll spend many a winter's day making snow angels and snow condominioums and snow nuclear power plants. then we'll warm up by melting hunks of cheddar by a fire. the oil from the cheese dripping all over our snowsuits. and perhaps our bodies. and we'll run through the barn, squirting each other with milk straight from the cow's udder (under the pretense of cleaning the oil off). and there'll be jokes about lactating. and laughter will abound. and we'll finally know happiness is a state called wisconsin
with arms outstretched,