An Open Letter to Amanda Palmer

Dear Amanda,

I'm fairly certain that if one were to go through the archives of this blog, this would not be the first letter I've written to you. If, in fact, it is the first letter I've written to you, I am surprised. If that is the case, I've written you many letters in my head. In fact, I've written this one over and over since the beginning of this week. I figure that since I'm still mulling it over after this long, I should probably write it down. It must be important to me.

I just wanted to tell you that this past Tuesday, I rediscovered my favorite album. Not just my favorite album of yours, but what is my favorite music album ever. Why should you care? Because said album wouldn't exist without you as it is The Dresden Dolls self-titled album.

I must explain. I fell in love with that album a couple of years after I graduated high school. A friend of mine who I worked with at a crappy fast food restaurant recommended it to me. I think he knew me better than I ever gave him credit for, because I fell, as he'd predicted, instantly in love with your humble little band. I memorized the songs, I followed your blog, I wished so badly that you and Brian would come close enough for me to make it to a show. When I found out that you had just released Yes, Virginia, I learned all of those songs as well, but they couldn't hold a candle to how I felt about the songs on The Dresden Dolls.

The lyrics spoke to me. The music... It made me feel something I've never been able to describe. The chemistry between you and Brian... The way you play the piano as if it is an extension of Brian's drum set... All of that together. I absolutely loved it. I rarely took it out of my car stereo.

One dark night, a man walked out in front of my car as I drove the lonely trip from my home to college. I didn't have a chance to swerve or even hit the brakes. As quickly as I saw him, he smashed into my windshield and flew over the top of my car. It was all I could do to keep the car from flipping into the ditch. I immediately called 911, but the damage was done. He died on impact.

My dear, Amanda, guess which album played as the worst day of my life... No, strike that... The worst moment of my life unfolded uncontrollably before me. You guessed it. After that day, I could never listen to that album. I could hardly stand to hear a random song from that album. What had once been beloved quickly turned into something forbidden.

Don't get me wrong. I still loved your band and your music, and I followed your career avidly as you broke with your record company, fell in love, became a sensation on the Internet. But I never felt the passion for the music that I had felt for my favorite album. After the accident, I lost a lot of things. I became depressed. I spent years watching you succeed and doing nothing myself as my life spiraled around me.

I hit bottom about a year ago. I'm on medicine. I'm alive again. I hope I never have to go back to that emotional place again, because I don't think I could survive it again.

I am going to be okay. I rediscovered your CD this week, and on Tuesday I found myself listening to The Dresden Dolls as I drove past the same spot where I had the accident. I am going to be okay.

I just wanted you to know.

Thank you for the music,

Kate Jones