Dear John Mayer,
I love your musical genius. You are a talented musician, and although I realize you have been on a bit of a sabbatical in the hills, valleys, solitude of Montana, or some other area of sparsley-populated-God’s-country, I still covet your song. The world will be a better place if your voice recovers.
Having been a reporter myself, I’m not sure if you’re really the masochistic sex-maniac the press makes you out to be, and I could care less either way.
As with any other human being I am only concerned with your own happiness and spiritual progression.
As my older, wiser pal once told me,”Go make your memories now.” I hope your memories make you smile, laugh a little, and remind you that you are human, and you are loved.
You will find yourself somewhere, sometime, with someone, or in your own solitude. We’re all on the same journey, just more or less caught in the centre or shadow of the spotlight. It’s all cool.
Thank you for your music and playboy reputation ( all women love bad boys whether we admit it or not).
That is all your musical highness. That is all.