Friday, July 16, 2004

5 years ago today, I heard that intoxicating, delightful, gutsy little voice for the first time, arguing with a nasty Howard Stern about her butt.  (Spankable?  No, that's violent.  Shapely?  Most definitely.)  It was the voice, as you know, that put the hook in me.  And I'm still hooked.
5 years ago today, I lay eyes on you, the most gorgeous creature* I'd ever seen (and remains so to this day)  for the first time.  A gleaming, radiant vision of a girl in a Cleveland Indians baseball cap, delighted with the attention of all the hits her call had gotten her.  A charming, graceful, elegant Beauty.  And she was a delight to talk to, whoever the typist was.  Truly I was hooked.  I couldn't wait until Monday, the 19th, when I could see her again.  She was all I thought about that weekend, a thought and vision I've grown used to over the years.
My life was changed that day -- July 16, 1999 -- forevermore.  I would never be the same.  No other woman could ever match that exquisite vision in the baseball cap.  She was, to me, the very embodiment of the phrase "pretty woman".  She -- you -- still are.
You made me want to Live.  You made me want to Try.  And that was a prodigious feat at that time in my life, when I'd almost given up.
So I note the date and Thank You again.
But ...  I miss you.  Like I've never missed anyone before in my life.  Yes, I lost my first love, and yes, I lost my two dearest friends, and a good part of my family.  But they are dead.  You are quite alive, out there, having thrown me away like garbage and I ... well, I miss you.  I miss the Happy Faces appearing suddenly in my instant messenger window, knowing the glowing, lovely face of the girl behind it.  I miss the [[[[[[[ Hugs ]]]]]]]]].  I miss being your -- active -- friend.
We last "spoke" on April 13, 2001.  (I don't count P.S.'s.)  That was 1,190 days ago.  1,190!  Three years, three months and two days.  39 months.  170 weeks to the day.  A lot has happened!  9/11 happened, which changed the world.  Your "career" has happened, which grieves me, as you know; but it hasn't made me Love You any less.  More, maybe.  I am 50 now.  Jesus.  Ethan is 12.  Tara is 10.  My mom is 77 and in bad health; tending to her is basically my "job" now.  "Jenny" the fictional teenager is 24.  :-)  Linda's baby girl is 5, I guess.  Pet, wherever he may be, is 49.  Syl is about 90.  Sonya remains ageless, ummm, about 29, let's say.  And you, if you told the truth (and if March 31st is really the day), are 32.  But you're vain, so I figure ... 34.  (Hey, you ARE vain!  No insult, just fact.)  Whatever it is, it doesn't matter.  I don't care.
The only thing that matters is that I Love you and Miss You terribly.  You remain very Dear to me, as you Always will be. 
But, I just wanted to say, that today is July 16.  And 5 years ago I heard you and saw you for the first time.  And I was blown away.  Completely blown away.
Love always,
*  Whose boobies then were just fine, as beautiful as the rest of her.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Today's Golden Oldie is from last June 7:

Nobody's listening, of course ... Nobody who would understand, but ...

I said about her, from the very beginning, that: 1) Someone, probably a man, probably a pervert, HURT her very, very badly, somewhere along the line and as a result of that hurt, she feels she has to get even with the rest of us -- even if we're innocent and well-meaning and kind and truly love and care about her -- she has to "mindfuck" and hurt and punish. This is her revenge on the person she trusted and harmed her, probably as a child or teen, and all of us are surrogates, innocent or no. And ...

2) I believe this with all my heart: She wants all the priviledges and benefits of friendship but none of the responsibility. It's cold, but also tragic. She is essentially a very tragic figure, IMHO.

And of course these 2 lead to her not only hurting and belittling others, it also hurts her. Because all her behavior is designed to do one thing: to hurt herself and reinforce negative feelings about herself and thus prove she is "right" about being "bad". It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. All that she does and is into centers around that self-fulfilling prophecy. And the tragedy of it is, of course, is that it is WRONG. Underneath all that she is a good, decent, caring, worthwhile person. But she doesn't want to believe it. It would fuck up her whole world to believe that. She's afraid to believe anything else about herself; it's all she knows. And it's so sad ...

So she belittles herself, allows herself to be used, sets a price upon what shouldn't have a price, hurts others, pretends, exhibits, lies, "mindfucks" ... sick toys and sick games all designed to prove to herself that whatever happened to her, she deserved it (she did not) and she is bad (she is not).

And it's tragic. So sad it brings tears to my eyes ...

But I'm here, and will be here as long as my health allows me. I am here for her. Should she wise up. I promised, you see.

I love her.

No questions asked.

Matthew 16:26
"What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?"

Tuesday, July 13, 2004


Girl, you thought you found the answer
on that magic carpet ride last night
But when you wake up in the mornin' the world
still gets you uptight
Well, there's nothin' that you ain't tried
To fill the emptiness inside
But when you come back down, girl
Still ain't feelin' right

(And don't it seem like)
Kicks just keep gettin' harder to find
And all your kicks ain't bringin' you peace of mind
Before you find out it's too late, girl
You better get straight

No, but not with kicks
You just need help, girl

Well you think you're gonna find yourself a little piece of paradise
But it ain't happened yet, so girl, you better think twice
Don't you see no matter what you do
You'll never run away from you
And if you keep on runnin'
You'll have to pay the price


No, you don't need kicks
To help you face the world each day
That road goes nowhereI'm gonna help you find yourself another way

(And don't it seem like)
Kicks just keep gettin' harder to find
(Oh, you don't need kicks, girl)
And all your kicks ain't bringin' you peace of mind
(You just need help, girl)
Before you find out it's too late, girl
You better get straight
Written by Dickey Lee

Just because I ask a friend about her
Just because I spoke her name somewhere
Just because I rang her number by mistake today
She thinks I still care

Just because I haunt the same old places
Where the mem'ry of her lingers ev'rywhere
Just because I'm not the happy guy I used to be
She thinks I still care

But if she's happy thinkin' I still need her
Then let that silly notion bring her cheer
But how could she ever be so foolish
Oh where would she get such an idea

Just because I ask a friend about her
And just because I spoke her name somewhere
Just because I saw her then went all to pieces
She thinks I still care
She thinks I still care

" ... but Tim has issues." -- Some girl, 1999

You're not the girl who inspired me to love this poem, so many years ago, but you're the closest to her that's ever existed since her. I told you the story; not sure you'd remember it.


by Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:--
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we--
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:--

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea--
In her tomb by the side of the sea.

SONNET 62 -- William Shakespeare

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
And all my soul and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for myself mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed,
Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.