a letter to cameron winter

To: Cameron Winter

From: ???

Hi Cameron, 

It’s me, Zoe. I just used the question marks to cultivate interest. Your tolerance for fangirls is probably pretty low, so I’ll make this quick.

Do you remember walking past me before your March 7th gig at the First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania? (I wanted to specify PA because I’m not sure if you’ve ever played in our fine city’s Mississippi counterpart). I was the hopelessly beautiful Ashkenazi brunette with sad eyes. I was sad because I was there alone. It’s not like I don’t have friends. I have lots of friends, just like you do I’m sure. That’s something we might have in common. Not Common the rapper and actor. (I wanted to specify not Common the rapper and actor because in my mind you’re a huge John Wick fan). 

Inside the church, I was scared to sit in the front, so I found a respectable middle of the pack pew to sit at. In my hopeless beauty, I did the New York Times mini crossword puzzle archive. The man next to me also started doing the New York Times mini crossword puzzle archive. As an artist, do you believe that he was inspired by me or just a copycat? Do you believe the early Geese material is copying Television? Not geese the animal or television the object, your band and Tom Verlaine’s band. (I wanted to specify that I’m talking about bands in case you thought I was discussing the eerie similarities between geese feathers and TV sets). 

After a wonderful opening performance by @ where they didn’t play any of the songs of theirs that I knew but it didn’t matter, your first song really moved me. “If You Turn Back Now.” Not physically. Just emotionally in a 2nd Great Awakening kind of way. You say “My heart is for those who leave me alone,” but that kind of takes me out of the whole romantic love equation. I would never leave you alone, Cameron. So now I was alone in a church with an inspired cruciverbalist copycat and a songwriter who will never love me back. By cruciverbalist, I mean someone who does crosswords, not someone who makes them. (I wanted to specify that this man was just a crossword doer, not a puzzle maker because he didn’t seem ANYTHING like a crossword maker; I think he was in a frat and not a literary frat just like a normal Brett Kavanaugh beer frat). 

Cameron, you gave me full body chills with every lyric sung. Even on your crappy electronic piano, because one of the pedals snapped off the real one, every note rang through the church, and probably struck through every audience member’s flannel or brown bomber jacket or both straight into their hearts. If God is as real as you say Cam (Can I call you Cam?), I think she (that’s right if we’re saying God is real she’s definitely a woman) was certainly in the church that fateful Friday night. She’s in your vibrato and vocal oscillations, Cam. 

I can’t imagine being an artist like you. And by you, I mean Cameron Winter. (I wanted to specify in the event that you thought I was talking about the TV show that I always accidentally google when trying to get to YouTube to watch a live recording of the show you played at the First Unitarian Church on March 7th, 2025).

Amazing grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost

But now I’m found

I was blind

But noooooooooooow I see

You save me everyday, Cameron.

You sang that song for the encore, so I thought I would also end my letter with it. I hope this passenger pigeon that I Victor Frankensteined out of extension delivers my letter to you directly (I wanted to specify Victor Frankenstein and not Frankenstein’s monster commonly known as Frankenstein so that you know I am well-read). I wish I could see you again with Geese on November 13th at Union Transfer, but I will be playing the Wicked Witch in my school’s production of Wizard of Oz instead. If you’re not busy, you should come by and watch it. No promises, but there might be feet for you to obtain; I heard you need some.

Sincerely, (too formal again)

Love, (too forward, he doesn’t want you ZOE)

Warmly,

Zoe