5:35 PM 11/08/02 trying to fall asleep last night i felt something in my mouth. ill get back to this...

the unveiling. i just listened to it. i been putting this off since i started listening to this cd. scared of what i might find. scared that i might find nothing. scared that it would be the end of an era. i have never been hit so hard by anything in my life. and just imagine... i knew it all along.

ok, back. i felt around and grabbed it. pulled it out and discovered that it was a hair. now, a hair of that length could only have come from one of two people. to both of whom i owe apologies. well, three girls i suppose. but i dont feel i need apologize to the third.

i sent liz the hard copy of the samantha story. liz, theres a story. liz is a girl that ive grown quit close to and quite fond of. weve spent so much time together i feel i know her intimately. which might be the case, had we ever met. our relationship, our friendship, began (as most do) with a statement of love screwed up by semantics. gaelic irish to be exact. asa many of you know, and some of you are discovering for the first time, i maintain a pitiful excuse for a website. really its just a place for me to say whatever the fuck is on my mind. some like it, some dont. i dont do it for those who do, i dont do it for those who dont. i do it for me. its where i feel i can say whatever i want and need to say. liz stumbled upon it somehow. she enjoyed her stay so she wrote to say so. it came out a little wierd, but thats who she is.

we talked all the time via email. at first it was all exploratory. who are you. where do you live. why do you love me. that sort of thing. once the formalities were out of the way we started in with the business of finding out as much about each other as we could. the more i learned the closer i got. i came to consider her one of my best friends. not a day would go by that i wouldnt mention her to matt or auger or kory. we started writing letters. wed write up a letter, send it, and continue to talk online. when her letter would arrive id open it and read it. id write a letter in return then sit down and send her an email. id get two or three emails a day from her. we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. i went to florida and couldnt stop writing to her.

then, all of a sudden, i stopped hearing from her. which concerned me. i thought that maybe something had happened to her. something tragic, or worse. so i called her one day. that was a little wierd. she assured me that she was ok. apparently something happened with her parents. i sent her the samantha story two weeks ago, or so. and thats the liz story. in a very compact nutshell.

when i go back and read over my writings i discover things. for instance, i just realized that when reading my writings one gets the sense that they move at a tremendous pace. everything is thrown at you and theres not time to stop and digest what youve just read. is this true? do any of you have pointers on how i can improve my writing? i would attempt creative writing but i cant creatively write fiction. and i dont have enough interesting non-fiction stories in my head to make it worth my while to attempt that. my biggest writing achievement to date is the samantha story. as a story was it a good read? were the intended emotions portrayed, felt? i will probably never know. i receive so little input, criticism, commentary or even questions taht i sometimes wonder how that counter at the top of the front page ever got so high. well, i think it is time for bed now. soon ill wake up and spend another lonely, boring, loney day by myself. bye.