Technical Problems of Heavier-Than-Sorrow Flight 

First of all, do not, under any circumstances, start reading old letters. Especially old love letters. Leave them exiled to the attic or basement. They’re reconciled to being expatriates. In fact, they take a certain pride in believing they will never betray their home country—the past. Not an empirical past, but a past carefully constructed to either berate or exculpate yourself depending on how twisted up inside you feel. Put a rubber band around your wrist and use it to snap yourself whenever you get the urge to resurrect dead letters. Supposedly, it works for people trying to quit smoking. But, you know, there’s nicotine and then there’s regret. Snap yourself twice. When that doesn’t work, notice how the rubber bands that once held the letters together by sender or year have broken, like the gates of a city overrun by barbarians. Remember those toy balsa wood airplanes propelled by rubber bands wound tight? They crashed irreparably after a handful of unsatisfying flights. Do not see this as an image for your life’s trajectory. Hey! Snap out of it! You’ve got an airplane to land!