Tag: High School

  • 100 Bottles of Rain on My Soul, 100 Bottles of Rain! [5 Feb 91]

    Someone recently asked me if I make up any portion of Little Pam’s letters. I told her that, sadly, I do not. The look of shock and pity on her face… I won’t forget that. So it’s probably a good thing I’ve gotten you accustomed to what I was like at fifteen before I found […]

  • chapters

    All this rehashing of my high school years might be undoing years of therapy. I think I can safely blame Facebook for part of it. I’m new to it. Look, I had a Geocities account, whippersnappers. And I made it safely through both the Friendster and MySpace Administrations. But Facebook, that’s where you all are. […]

  • Little Pam Gets Personal

    Oh, man. I don’t know what was going on with me the winter of my fifteenth year, but I was wrestling with some serious hormones. 20, Jan., 1991 Look at me. Look into my eyes. Let me look into you. Let me look beyond that mask you wear into your real feelings — your real […]

  • Notes from a “lump” of Houston Sheraton Town & Country Stationery, circa 1990 or 91

    Just so you know, I got an email from 200-page boy, who got an email from one of you asking, “ARE YOU 200-PAGE LETTER DOUGLAS THAT PAMIE’S WRITING ABOUT?!?” Small, small world. He was writing to let me know that he does, indeed, still have that letter. My first book! (Speaking of books, the galleys […]

  • 20, Nov., 1990

    Let me start by saying I am appreciative of all the attention Little Pam has received. It’s not just the emails, the letters and poems you’ve unearthed and started posting on your own websites, or even the Facebook fan page someone started for LP (seriously), it’s this shared feeling of mortification and anxiety I’m causing. […]

  • 13, Nov., 1990

    It’s raining outside and I just finished my chores. Seems only fitting to dive back into my unsent teenage love letters. When we last left Little Pam (LP), she had found a new fixation on which to Velcro her weepy heart. Five days later, she grabbed a red pen and then this happened. 13, Nov., […]

  • 8 Nov 1990

    I don’t even have an introduction to this because I’m just so… in awe of how much passionate heartache I was capable of feeling all by myself. Oh, man. Here we go. 8 Nov 1990 It doesn’t matter what I try to do. Every time I try to do something you start to take control […]

  • 1 Oct. 1990

    So I found this stack of letters I never sent from twenty years ago that appear to chronicle a month-long, rather one-sided relationship I had with a boy who may or may not have ever known that I thought I was in love with him. This would be a good segue to explain why I […]

  • My Friend Ragan Is Crazy Talented.

    I’m proud to pimp the poetry book of one of my dearest friends, Ragan Fox. exile in gayville is everything I love about Ragan. Spot-on hilarious, yank-your-marrow honesty, clever-clever without a hint of “i-mean-if-you-can-understand-but-i’m-sure-you-can’t,” and the next thing you know, you feel like you’ve always known him, and you’re grateful for everything he shared with […]

  • my archived heart.

    Looking through a high school yearbook from 1991. Turns out I was quoted on the “Valentine’s Day” page. Of course, if you happened to be in the unfortunate position of being, well, unattached, then Valentine’s Day can be a little depressing. Pam Ribon describes the occasion this way: “Valentine’s Day is a cess-pool of a […]