This is a place where I will profess my love for things and people that are terrible. These professions will be uniformly disingenuous.
You can see me improvising at the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theatre in NYC. There are a variety of other ways to see me as well, I guess, depending on how how weird you want to get. I hope you can't see me writing these letters.
Non-love letter entries by me can be found at pbwelsh.tumblr.com, where I will continue to post with relative infrequency.
Dear Girl From my High School Who is Still Obsessed with The Smashing Pumpkins,
The World is indeed a vampire! Like so many lovesick fools before you, you soldier on through your twenties, convinced your collection of t-shirts emblazoned with the world “Zero” mark the zenith of subversion. Though, my seductress, I fear your tears only make My Chemical Romance stronger. Every pang of grief you feel for TSP cranks the dial of the proverbial radio blasting “Helena” louder and rips deeper still at the ever-fresh wound at the center of you tiny black heart. Time though, as we both know, is never time at all.
Oh, GFMHSWISOWTSP, to me you are a modern day Martin Luther nailing your theses on the supremacy of The Smashing Pumpkins to the digital church door that is Facebook. Your all caps update literally last week that read: “DESPITE ALL MY RAGE I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE” weakened my knees and reignited the long dormant fury of angst for all who read it. A reminder of all of your many deep dimensions! For you, my incandescent beacon of hope, everyday is a 21st century Diet of Worms, as the papacy of time and reason excommunicate and condemn you.
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light GFMHSWISOWTSP - for we both know, the more you change, the less you feel. Of that you are the greatest reminder of all. Your salvation is the Smashing Pumpkins, and mine you.