Dear Ernie Cline
As I was packing clothes for my trip to Australia, I came across an old t-shirt for VIP, your high school band. Man, I don’t remember how long I’ve had this shirt or how, in fact, I came in possession of it — I seem to remember a trip to Texas and fighting sixteen cowboys in a bar parking lot outside of Abilene for it, sometimes three or four at a time, but I may be misremembering — but it reminded me that, like you, before I was a writer, I was a high school rock and roll musician myself: I was in a band called Dead Rats Don’t Fly, and let me tell you, we rocked the greater Eastern San Gabriel Valley area back in the day. Good times, my friend, good times.
And, I don’t know, maybe it’s time to get the band back together. What do you think?
Or, we could form a band. Hey, it worked for the Rock Bottom Remainders. Why not us? As you can see, I still have the critical rock and roll moves:
(Any rumors that this stellar rock and roll leap ended with me on the lawn, clutching my knee in agony, is just that: rumor.)
Oh, and also, I hear it’s your birthday today. Happy birthday, man. May your day be filled with friends, fun, rock and roll and the occasional weird mystery.
Yer pal in the rock n’ roll lifestyle,
(P.S.: For anyone wondering what it is that I’ve got there in my hot little hands, it’s a Warren Ellis Signature MandoTenor — that’s Warren Ellis the musician, not Warren Ellis the author. I bought, slightly prematurely, as a “finished the new novel” gift for myself. Since the new novel is not yet finished (sigh), I still haven’t actually played it yet. And now I’ll have to wait until I get back from Australia to play it. But it’s fine motivation to finish writing.)