2005-09-13 || 2:16 p.m.

|| c-l-a-y ||

Dear _ _ _ _, remember when we had that collective crush on c and would talk about him enough to make those around us jealous, and I pasted that covert operation Polaroid of him playing drums on my refrigerator in the studio apartment? How j particularly was jealous, muttering in that vagrant-man way that all the ladies love c; he couldn�t understand it. We saw him every once in a while in real life and I would get completely star struck, like he was sammy davis, jr. or tom selleck or a gabor, and one of the most magical moments of my life was standing in your kitchen with him while a show was going on in the living room, how he knocked over a teacup during a quiet part and looked over and said my name and blamed it on me.
It felt like what I think it would feel like to have jesus, back when he was performing all those miracles like nightclub acts, walk up to me and touch me on the forehead with his magical palm.
I heard from him today. I don�t know if he knows it�s me. It could have been a mass mailing or he could have sent it to everyone attached to all our common friends, but I like to think he stopped for a second when he saw my name. Did he think of the teacup? Could he have found out about the Polaroid? I kissed it regularly, you know, while opening and closing the freezer to make dinner alone at night.

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