| Hi Joi,
It's early Sunday morning. The sun's just starting to throw patches of light on the beautiful building across the street. Early mornings are my favorite times to write. I'll get an inspiration in the evening, it'll keep me up all night then I'll attack the computer in the morning. Inevitably, of course, I get writer's block and nothing will come out for hours. I hate those times. This time, however, it's nice to have the time we've spent together to turn my muse. would that the clock could turn it's face and leave its hands lie still. How do these things happen, Joi? The feeling for days, hours even just for seconds that the entire world is focused right there, right then! I admit that I thought as a fool and probably acted something of one too. Do you realize that with my arm around you, pulling you as close as I could I asked if you'd be willing to move to Berkeley and you said "Yes. But I really hate the thought of taking that Bar." I mean, like do you realize how many times we used the term "we" when speaking of things heretofore in our individual futures? We fell into that manner of speaking so naturally, so easily. Joi, we even bought a book together. I've seen that at times you are put off when I praise you over much or when I seem all too polite--but don't be turned by that. Although I am a modern man I have a very old soul and an even older heart. I like to point out the things I admire. I like to add flourishes to simple phrases. They're the added line beneath a signature or the little faces which adorn your faxes. They are beauty, romance, humor, personality--poetry. Tuesday will be the 3rd anniversary of our first date. Not of three years or even of three months but of three weeks. It's like I'm already viewing it as history. Perhaps that's so, but ah, what a history--every year new monuments should be built, anthems written, and thunder and lightening should cleanse the air. It wasn't exactly a whirlwind, true. But as you said for yourself I too felt as a kid again. A sixteen year old tenuously reaching for the hand of his first, shy and ever so radiant date. I'll cherish the goose pimples you gave me forever, I think they're now permanent. Happy anniversary, Joi |