Jake Gyllenhaal Buys Me the Horror Classics Collection: 50 Movie Pack as a Token of His Love

Accompanying letter:

"My very dear Lindy Loo,

I realize we haven't met yet, but I've been quite aware of you, as I know you have been of me. You've seen plenty of pictures of me. I also have seen many of you, thanks to my connections at Michfest. I have enjoyed the snapshots, taken surreptitiously, of you in unguarded moments, denuded (!) of all pretense. The layers of caked-on mud simply add a frisson of pleasure, another layer of interest.

But for me it has been more a matter of the heart and mind. I read your blog every day. I greatly enjoy it. (I especially liked the fruit trials; when are you going to try durian, anyways? I think you'd like it.) Through your writing, heavy with pontificating as it is, I feel I have come to know you. Intimately.

We must meet soon. I'm not talking about a casual hook-up, though I'd settle for that (something anonymous, that we can arrange beforehand, where neither of us knows who the other is). I want to start a life with you. I envision a small clapboard house with almost no yard, in Cuyahoga Heights, overlooking the flats. There we can pass our days watching what's left of industrial Cleveland's share of the rust belt devolve into complete nothingness. Perhaps we can have children who will contract tuberculosis to share our lives, briefly. (The briefer the better.) It would be a wonderful life, you and I alone together, shacked up and shagging for days on end.

Please accept this modest token of my love, so out of proportion with the overwhelming desire I feel for you. The pictures here will remind you of me. And long after both our bodies have crumbled to dust, you'll still be able to gaze on my image. (How this will work since your own eyeballs will have turned to dust, I haven't worked out, but give me a break and don't go ruining the poetry here with stupid facts.)

I hope we can meet soon. If not, I shall pine for you forever.

Love,
Jake"

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