outside the snow is melting.
so i am sitting here listening to "2000 miles" over and over again, and reading this e-mail from matthew which ends:
i was just thinking yesterday or the day before, when i wrote you out of nowhere, if i did that, and thinking of how there was a time when you and i talked probably like an hour or two a day every day, and then i wondered if there was really a time like that or if that memory is an amalgam of frequent electronic and occasional vocal correspondence back in the day, leading to my brain coming up with a hazy, pleasantly fabricated lie.
and the combination of these words, & the season i guess, & chrissie hynde (because who is invulnerable to chrissie hynde?!), makes me feel all melty and nostalgic and weepy and happy at the same time.
it is time to stop hiding i guess.
once i sent matthew a postcard and on it was only the stamp and his address & this, which i stole from someone else:
And I don't want any plastics. And I don't want any ground floors. And I don't want to get married, to anyone, ever.
our hearts were singing. it felt like christmastime, sings chrissie hynde.
