Dear Mr. Stipe,
We both fashioned ourselves without any thought for passion. This is how i feel we would speak if we met;
I: (Me) Great hat Mr. Skype it really helps.
You: (You) Thanks, i like people to see me as antagonistic. Do you think I’m?
I: (Me) Oh yeah, i was about to congratulate you on Auto for the People but now…well Mike i don’t know?
You: (You) Oh god thanks (gushing and fawning now) i feel great. Well done sir.
I’ve written some lyrics for your new album, i’ve gone for a kind of political zeitgeist kind of thing but thrown in loads of homophobic demands. Please write back with what you think, maybe we could put our heads together for a concept album?
I was thinking either focusing on Dustin Hoffman’s Club Foot and calling the album, “The Foot that Shied Away”, or a full orchestral work dealing with Frobisher and their rise to fame….we could call it, “Little Kid, Little Kid, Let Me In. Not By The Hair On My Johnny John Simm” the second one is more satirical as John Simm is a euphemism for synapses.
In aching anticipation of your reply,