March 12th, 1999
Dear Norah,
I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with the shit that’s been going on or not… but, basically… I think we’re fucked.
I don’t totally understand it… but I know me and the guys got screwed out of a lot of money. And you know… the money isn’t even the biggest problem. It’s the trust, you know? We all trusted Lou… and he totally fucked us. And because of that… we may never get to perform again. He wants the rights to our name, and our music, and… everything, really. The guy’s acting like he owned us or something.
Everybody’s trying to be really upbeat about it, but I just don’t think it’s going to work out. He’s going to take everything and I’ll have to come back home as a failure, again. I can’t do that Norah. I can’t have everybody laughing at me, talking about how they knew I’d never make it.
I should probably just throw this away, cause knowing you… you’ll just tell me I’m being a crybaby. But I’m fucking scared and I just can’t help it.
I mean, I’ve known all along that this could pretty much disappear over night. I just… I thought we’d fade out, rather than be forced out, you know? I feel like it’d be easier to deal with if people just stopped liking us. But no… it’s going to be taken away and there isn’t a damn thing me or anybody else can do about it.
You know what… against my better judgment, I’m gonna go ahead and send this, but do me a favor… just read it, throw it away, and forget about it. Don’t even respond. I don’t want to hear about how I’m just being a pussy.
-J
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March 21st, 1999
Justin,
I know you said you wanted me to ignore the last letter, and I tried. I really did. But… Well… I felt bad.
Yes… I have feelings. I was just as surprised as I’m sure you are.
Look… I don’t think you’re being a crybaby. Mostly, I think you’re confused and scared, and in way over your head. But that’s life, you know? Shit gets scary sometimes. I can’t really say I know what you’re going through, because I haven’t got the slightest clue. But… I think it will work out ok.
I mean… is it really the name that makes the group what it is? You know… “a rose by any other name..” and all that jazz. I think you guys will be fine, no matter what happens. I mean, worse comes to worse.. Just change the spelling. NSINK works just as well, doesn’t it?
Ok… I know I’m supposed to be nice and not make fun of you… but come on… this is me we’re talking about. I can’t function properly without insulting you in some way.
Anyway… I think it’s perfectly normal for you to be freaking out a little. But, you need to stay somewhat positive. It’s going to work out. You guys will be fine, and I’m sure crazy girls will still be crying at the sight of your face for years to come. See? I do know how to dish out a compliment every so often! Just don’t plan on it happening again for another 40 years or so.
So, in closing… keep your head up. It’ll work out.
And if you tell anybody what I’m about to say, I will create a voodoo doll in your likeness, but… if you need anything… I’m here.
-Norah
P.S- Trace has decided to grow an afro, just like yours. Please cut your hair so that he’ll do the same. I’m pretty sure there are small animals nesting on his head.
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October 7th, 1999
Norah,
I know, it’s been forever. Sorry about that, things have been kinda crazy.
You were right about the lawsuit. We settled out of court, so we get to keep the name, the music… and we got a decent amount of money out of it. Overall, it worked out. Just like you said it would.
You know… when you’re not being a pain in the ass know it all, you’re kinda smart.
Now, don’t go getting a big head over this or anything, but I want to say thank you. Believe it or not, that letter helped me stay calm when everything got shitty, and I appreciate it. Especially since you didn’t have to say any of that. It would have been so easy for you to tell me to fuck off and stop whining. I guess you really aren’t so bad after all.
So… graduations in a few months… and I’m sure you’re busy as hell. But, you’ve had time to listen to me bitch about my stuff, I think it’s time I listened to you bitch about yours.
So, I want to hear all about it. The college applications, the senior trip, the projects. The whole nine yards. I won’t get to do all of that shit, so I guess I can live vicariously through you. I’d ask you tell me about the parties too, but I know damn well you haven’t been to a single one. Honestly Nor… the parties are supposed to be the best part. You’ve basically wasted your entire senior year by not going.
So, did you manage to pay some poor schmuck to hold your hand between classes yet? I hope not… cause it wouldn’t be worth the poor guys money. But who knows… some dudes will do just about anything to cop a feel. Then again… ain’t much to feel with you, is there?
Anyway… I’ve got a bunch of meetings and stuff now, so I gotta go. And I’m serious… let me know how school’s going. Believe it or not, I am interested!
-JT
P.S- I can’t do anything about Trace’s hair. It’s not my fault the guy knows I’m awesome. Just buy him some shampoo, it’ll be alright. Or, just buy food for the animals nesting in his hair.
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November 2nd, 1999
Justin,
I’ll have you know… I went to one party. And it was horrible. The football team got drunk and trashed Adam Baker’s house… his parents grounded him until he’s 50.
After that, I came to the conclusion that high school parties aren’t nearly as cool as they look in the movies. And before you ask… no, I didn’t get drunk. Beer looks like urine, and I have no desire to have anything that even remotely resembles urine anywhere near my mouth. So, there.
As for my college applications, I got into Sarah Lawrence months ago. Not to brag or anything, but it’s a pretty big deal. I got a full art scholarship, and thank god for that… there’s no way my parents would have been able to afford it.
I just figure… if people are dumb enough to buy your shit-tacular albums, they’ll buy my paintings too. Oh… and don’t ask to buy any of them when I’m famous. I refuse to sell my work to obnoxious jackasses.
As for my dating life, it’s none of your damn business. I would be polite and ask about yours, but it’s on the cover of every magazine at the grocery store. I’m assuming Britney got her record deal by agreeing to be seen with you. Cause let’s face it… that’s about the only way that girl was getting a music career.
Oh… could you please stop commenting on my breasts? It’s quite uncomfortable and makes you sound like some kind of pervert.
Anyway… school is going fine. We’re taking our senior trip to D.C, so it should be nice and boring. No surprise there.
Oh! I almost forgot… the other day, my sister inflicted a new kind of torture on me, in the form of a television show called Total Request Live. One of your videos was number two, then there was the other group at number one. The backstreet boys.
After watching both videos back to back, it was pretty easy to see why they were number one, and you weren’t. They sound much better than you. The guys are equally as hideous… well… except for the young blonde one. Feel free to introduce me to him. But anyway… they sounded better. I’m considering buying their new album just so it outsells yours.
-Norah
