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And another I wrote: "I ♥ The Ponys! And it must be confessed that I am a secret masochist, oh yes." Hmm. The other night I was looking through my various disorganized collections of notebooks and notepads and papers looking for this one episode of Myrtle B. Jones and I can't find it. It's lost. I am annoyed. It's part one of a two-part episode, too, which is hilarious and I'd like to put it up at my writing place but it's lost forevermore. While I was looking I found all this stuff I wrote last year and it fucking kills me. (In other news I think I'm kind of starting to get over it all, fyi. I sent him an email and it feels like fairly good closure on my part, I feel okay with that. And I've reread the email a hundred times, so the fact that I still feel okay about it is very very good.) (I mean yeah I still miss him terribly but I'm okay, I'll be okay.) (Never mind, I just found that Myrtle B. Jones episode.) But I'm a masochist, so sometimes I like to wallow. I wrote this one day at work: It was September 14 [Cute Boy] walks up. I'm not looking at him but even with headphones on I know how his walk sounds. I look up and he's looking at me. We smile, he tilts his head. He sits down, I turn around, we say something, we laugh. I live this moment. I say, "That was beautiful" and I realize that it is. I want to capture it. I write it down. I live in Seattle, I work downtown, fall is coming and I am so excited. My eyes well up with tears and I will one day choke up and bawl for the loss of this. But the gains, for now, the laughs and smiles and glances are so nice. ***** I am a tactile person, I've told him many times while touching him. He walks by me, puts his hands near me, nearly touching my head or arms. I give him a questioning look. "I'm just being inappropriately tactile," he says. We resort to high-fives. His hands are cool, slightly sweaty. I love his hands and his stubby fingers.
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