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To Chuck

Hi there,

So, I'm writing this for a few reasons. I can't find any way to write Chuck directly, so I figure I'll post here and hope for the best.

I'm Michael Phillips, a writer and avid reader. I'm also a person with physical disabilities. Basically, I can do anything on a Mac using my thumb, a switch, and some assistive software, this includes reading books. Anyway, this is me: [url]http://www.assistiveware.com/michael.php[/url]

I prefer eBooks, but I also read unabridged audio books from iTunes. Back in January, my life went insane, I took very ill and spent about two months in the hospital. I got a tube installed in my throat, a tube in my stomach. However, during this crazy phase of my life, I've had plenty of time to read. A few months ago, I started reading your books. None of them are available as eBooks, so I downloaded what is available on iTunes. I read Haunted, Lullaby, Survivor, Rant, Diary and Invisible Monsters between yesterday and mid-July. I very much want to read the rest of your books, particularly Choke and Fight Club, but unfortunately they're not available digitally. Would you be at all willing to forward me these books in PDF or text format? I'll gladly paypal you the full hardback price for each book, I won't send the files to anybody, I just really want to read the books.

As a writer, reading your work has totally inspired me, especially Survivor. I'm writing better than I've ever written. Personally, your books totally helped me to feel better during an absolutely fucking dark period of my life.

If you're really bored, here's an example of something I wrote recently:

Quote:

So, I'm in the Adirondacks visiting my friend, Mike McNally, and his family. He, Celeste and I are in the van on our way to Lake Placid; I want to take the elevator to the top of the ski jump from the 1932 Winter Olympics. Celeste and I are in the back of the van, Mike's upfront driving and pointing out various sights we should notice. We're driving along nicely until for reasons immediately unapparent to me we slow down and pull over. We missed a Yield sign, much to the dismay of a local cop. So, the van stops and Mike does something one always does when pulled over by a cop, he turns off the engine. For most people this isn't a big deal, but when you require a running engine to breathe things get a little dicey. The van powers my Bipap, the Bipap powers my breathing. No engine, no Bipap. No Bipap, no breathing.

The Bipap's cigarette-lighter adapter makes one slight beep before it goes out. "Celeste heard that, right?" I think to myself, but she doesn't hear it. Nobody hears it, save for me and I can't talk. *I blink and move my eyebrows wildly, the signal for "I can't breathe." The signal for "Help, I'm screwed." Celeste doesn't notice, she's not looking in my direction, she's looking for the van's title and registration. I blink wildly. I know I have about 3 minutes until I black-out. I blink wildly. I'm aware that it's a rental vehicle, so I worry about how long it might take Celeste to actually find*the title and registration. I think, "Okay, calm down. Celeste will notice, she won't let you die." Followed by, "Way to go, Michael. You picked a great trip, you're going to die." Followed by, "Fuck you, shut up, you're not going to die." I blink wildly, Celeste doesn't see me. McNally pointed out the Adirondack Medical Center, I wonder if it's far away. I think about Sara, my girlfriend. I wish that she was sitting by my feet as I lay in the back of the van. I'm sorry for screwing things up so badly after I got sick in January. I wonder why God hates me so much. I blink wildly, Celeste sees me. She knows exactly what's wrong, and after about 2 minutes of not running, the engine is back on in 2 seconds flat. I'm fine, everything's fine. Fifteen minutes later I'm 26 stories high on the observation deck of that ski jump. Very much alive.

Thanks for your time!