thank you for giving me something to do when i can't sleep on an early northwest american morning. thank you for making it so much easier for me to be alive in the world [without having to clog up other people's hard drives with stupid html pages].

tonight,arriving later then i had expected, i knocked on his door today and he opened it. he stood there, towering over me, his jaw on the floor and his hands shaking.

"ohmygod," he exclaimed.

"ohmygod is right," i responded, obviously trying to sound cool and blaise. i was trying to act as if the sight of him in his old-school puma shirt and dirty white converse wasn't making me melt.

in an instant he dropped the book that he was holding [kafka if memory serves me correct] and grabbed me. he wrapped his long arms around my tiny bones and squeezed. he pushed me into his chest and i inhaled.

i felt safe.

i felt warm.

i felt home again.

but our whole conversation was about her, dara, the girl he broke up with two months before his wedding because he didn't love her the way he thought he did. there was a part of me that was happy but i felt selfish. i felt selfish for wanting him to kiss me, just to see if it was him i was putting my life on hold for. i felt stupid for wanting him to love me. i felt stupid in general sitting there in oliver's gray sweater and my torn, ripped up, joey lawrence-like jeans, trying not to say 'i'm sorry' too much or touch his tan khaki pants too much. but he also added to the problem as he leaned in too close to me when he talked and his blue eyes hypnotized me. he knew what he did to me. he knew that i had always thought of him as my 'soul mate'. he probably enjoyed it.

he made me a really, really, late dinner and watched me pick at the rice. he told me how much he missed me in between sips of water and flipping through old mail that sat on the table we were both sitting at. i laughed. probably too loud.

"you missed the thought of me."

"no, i missed you. as in missed you missed you.. and hey! i'm putting on a show in two days. i could use your ability to make little 'boy indie pop bands' listen to me. they always did..."

"they listened because i was nice to them. you were always so blunt and evil sometimes."

"yeah, you were always my better half."

i didn't respond and kept picking at my food.

i fell asleep on the couch, watching some bad movie and he went to bed. but the couch was lumpy and the computer chair looked comfy and now.. here i am. i'm whizzing around sites with a lovely computer that's probably worth more than the couch that is sitting behind me. typical brandon..

on a different note jack saturn happy birthday. i wish i had known. [but you're such a webHUNK i'm sure my happy birthday doesn't make a dent in your happy birthdays but i hope that it means something.]

reading sam's first entry at scribble i was reminded of a macy gray song. "i may appear to be free, but i'm just a prisoner of your love. i may seem alright and smile when you're near but my smiles are just a front .. "

yeah macy .. i feel you..

p.s i love you mom! the fact that you read my website to get updates in my life makes me sad but.. i love you. [mostly for not yelling at me and making me feel 12 like everyone in that house usually does.] andoliver you crack me up with your 'netscape navigator' page on our future project. i adore you. sorry i didn't call. i'm ok.