exactly two years ago, i remember writing an entry just for you. knowing you on christmas in 2003- you picked styrofoam off my hair - an entirely innocent gesture. i was glad for that.

i was going through one-and-a-half

fa
ces

and you had no space in

-between-

you were that Nice Stranger.

and i was mean, stoic and half-empty mind you, and certainly not half-full.
perhaps its the same ole' story two years on - she's come full-circle, whilst you were gone.

but this time, she'll welcome you back - not being the wreck that she was (and this necessitates a diversion; is it considered a betrayal to the memory of one's past if one is able to the transcend supposed grief?), able to see you for who you are without reality being mediated by mirrors and reflected images.

welcome back home, my friend, and i might just visit you in holland/aus when Operation Wanderlust kicks in.

***

my love affair with the Written Word - Your Written Words. the words you wrote. past sms-es take on significances reverberating far beyond simple beep beeps. the simulacrum of History recording itself with the click of a button. how easy, in the paranoia of losing me, to click Send (hurry, hurry, or she might just go away like she always said she would. no fear, my love, wallflowers are the living dead) to air your words to me, your written words of 'no' and 'i will not kill the love we have because of the hate i harbor'. killed it, you did, and hate, did you in. technology allows one to swallow one's words. you can just press Delete, forgetting ever that Send was the immediate option.

***

'words words words, even if it does not send me to my grave, words shall still mark my tombstone - Hamlet. a macabre line that got us a lil excited'

sms by Fir, 23/9/05