Mario Micallef ’22
Breaking news. A letter was sent to The Big Daily Scoop in 1992. This letter has sat behind our basement mailbox. We finally have the rights to publish it (It’s more that I just got really lucky finding it. I wonder if I will get a raise for this. I bet I won’t though, but it’s nice to hope (sometimes it is, other times it’s not (yes ‘other times’ is a fine phrase to use) so nice, and it makes you sad) & dream and not always have to look down at your bologna sandwich). The letter:
Dear Thom and his friends in Radiohead,
“Creep” – Thom Elanor Yorke have some self-confidence for Christ Sake. You’re so handsome and smart; you’ve got the talent of both ya brotha and ya sista combined. Stop being so hard on ya self all the time.
When you were here before – Actually, I was over at your house and saw you don’t even have baking soda in your refrigerator. Ya Fatha and I always told you to put a baking soda box in the refrigerator, and look what ya did. I raised ya betta Thom.
Couldn’t look you in the eye– You’ve nevah done it but I’m glad you started to notice. You should really look people in the eye when you talk to them Thom, and stand up straight.
You’re just like an angel – You’re the angel Thom. I remembah when you were an alta boy and you had ya little dress shoes and used to slick ya hair back and in the wintah ya cheeks would be so red when you sang the carols (or was it because you were sitting next to Carol?)
Your skin makes me cry – You’ve got perfect skin Thom. Aren’t ya glad you grew out of that phase where you had all sorts of pimples? I told you, you just need to wash ya face and drink ya watah like I always do before bed.
You float like a feather – A featha? You’re the skinny one, Thom. Always have been, even though I tried my best to feed you plenty. I don’t know how you did it either, ya Fatha and I are no featha.
In a beautiful world I wish I was special – Of course you’re special sweetheart. You’re perfect. We’ve got the orthodontics bill to prove it.
You’re so f***ing special – Thomas Yorke watch your language! But I’m a creep I’m a weirdo – A creep, a weirdo? I don’t understand. You are so loved. What the hell am I doing here? – Again with the language!
I don’t belong here I don’t care if it hurts I want to have control I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul I want you to notice When I’m not around You’re so f***ing special I wish I was special But I’m a creep I’m a weirdo What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here Oh, oh She’s running out again She’s running out She run run run run Run Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want You’re so f***ing special I wish I was special But I’m a creep I’m a weirdo What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here I don’t belong here – Thom, expect your Fatha & I to stop by. We need to talk. I hope you’ll respond now since you haven’t returned my calls.
The one who brought you into this beautiful world