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I just called mark on the phone. He "gets it" - like only the inner circlers would - when I call and say excitedly:
Me: I just did something nice.....
You did?
Me: (excitedly) For You.
What did you do nice?
Me: I stuck my hand down in your toilet and reattached the chain.
Awww. Thanks!
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Anyway, that's what I just did on this october second in the year of our selves two thousand and six.
Yes, I've missed you a bit. You are like family to me. You are like my mother currently. I am more active in my other forum currently.
(yes, it's an artistic thing I do now: lotsa dashes and intentional repetition of words).
I did want to shout out to two lovely birthday ladies - whose birthdays I recently overlooked due to my looming silence (did you even notice?).
I'll admit that I not only remember my friends birthday because of the golden rule, but also because I do my astrological survey until I die or change my ways. It's actually a sign of whether I like you or not. I'll ask your birthday almost from the very first moment you interest me. I try to be subtle with men, but with women, I just say "what's your birthday?.... oooohhhh you're a fill in the blank"...
(artistically, I am going through my selfish detailed internal phase).
Oh other people exist?
Ah yes!
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Happy Birthday Leslie Emelie Singleton Tuck! (I also remember people's full names and pet's names). I love you. True and simple, you are the essence of jewish mother in all the best ways. Of all my friends, I truly was always on the side that you - most definitely - are one of those people who should be a mother - no doubt. Now you are, and I am so very happy that these long-desired things have occurred to you. I also am so very happy that I got to sit on the floor and talk about these desires of yours. You and I had such an intellectual -path connection. We were on the same essential wavelength even though you are exuberant times one thousand compared to me. You are fucking Tigger! It's who you are, and I love it. Your cranberry apartment, a fireplace, wine, bob downstairs, talking about everyone we know (we are both born therapists), laughing, crying, eating your special salad dressing, dreaming, having you say "no, kristen, tell me about YOU. quit dodging...". I'm mushy lately. You are legeand in many ways. You're earthy. You're my virgo friend - like me mum.
Karen Jane McGraw MacIntyre.
Happy 40th Birthday!
We are intense friends. That's the first thing I think of when I think of you. I think of you holding your breath and looking upwards then beginning your nervous manic tale of suppressed worries. We are intense, because even though I suspect you are like the mother in the prince of tides in that all of your children are told they are your favorites - I know you and I are unique. You have a gift of making everyone you love feel like they are truly amazing and that you truly love them. I can make you cry on a dime. We are intense. Remember that night that I was crazy but had such a good eye for decorating? Even though we broke john's surfboard (do you even care now? strange eh.), we really got shit done aesthetically speaking. I love you. You touch my heart. Thanks for tori and pot and margaritas. It makes me so sad when you are stressed and carrying what you perceive someone thinks of you. I roar inside when you are the raunchy mae-west spirited elegant butterfly/lamp/bird. God, I can not thank you enough. I sometimes get embarrassed - I'll divulge - that I am not successful enough or good enough for you to socialize/call me like you do the others. I very much care about you and your opinion of me. We are family. We are intense. You are a lamp. Let it flow and let it go.
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My god dave. it's full of stars.
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