book one redone - Coldbacon

No steady stream of commercials to distract your bones. Like listening to
your favorite music on some good tight headphones. It’s better.
172
Dear Mr. Jones,
Whenever I look for a standard—a guide—I look to your work.
But it’s more than just that. It’s a way of living, of moving,
physically I mean. The other day, I found myself, in the shower,
soaping and singing in time with Rossini, “Welcome to my
shop, let me cut your mop…daintily…daintily.” I believe from
watching so many of your cartoons I have actually absorbed
your rhythm and timing into my being. And for this I am saved.
When I think about my life, about retiring—I am so young—I
think about the day I can finally take the time to read some
books—not just pages of books—and watch the movies and
cartoons I still haven’t seen enough times (fifty or sixty being
scarcely sufficient for something like “Rabbit of Seville” or
“What’s Opera Doc?”). Whenever I meet someone I think is
really cool, I show them your cartoons. Not so much as a litmus
test, but when I get excited about someone, I want to share with
them the best things I know. And I know what they are.
I wrote you a letter in my last year of college when I had finally
figured it out. To not hear back from you was at first a cause of
some distress. But then I realized you must not have gotten my
letter. But now I hear about a Chuck Jones tribute project going
on. To cheer you up! At first, I was going to just send a copy of
my old letter. But then I couldn’t find it, so I had to write this
instead.