13.10.06 - 9:31 p.m.

i often wish you'd write a book, if for no other reason than that i'd like to read it. the karaoke currency. that's what you could call it. and it would be amazing and quick-witted and fantastic as you are. today over drinks with the people who used to be our co-workers, those who would be your new ones if you'd stayed (and thank goodness you didn't) i called you my best friend. i said my best friend amber who used to work with us, something or other about how i don't have any girl friends and that hanging out with these people is nice but no substitution. i was drunk. and still am. but they got it. and they were jealous. i see you and they don't. and the only time they weren't jealous was during that few months when you were mad because you thought i tried to kill isabel and i was mad because you thought i would do that. we were mad and we let them think they were in on it. the it that we have and they don't. they soon realized that they are not in. on it. they don't get to go to chuck e cheese. i do and i count that among my many proverbial blessings, even when i am depressed about my life in general. i look at my refrigerator which still has magneted to it the birthday poem you wrote last year or two years ago or something and i read it and think about how lucky i am that my mother can come to my house and ask who wrote it and i can be proud of it and you and our friendship. we both burn bridges but there is something to be said for the fact that the one between us is intact. i love your curly hair and when you get cheesed off and talk fast and that you drive like a maniac as far as i'm concerned. i love that you are always safe to introduce because it is impossible that someone i put stock in could dislike you. i love the baby that came out of you. i love us together and i love you.



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