This is for Micah -
I know you expected
this letter a long time ago. Like maybe in the late 90's. But you know me. Late
in everything. School. Blooming. Getting clues. And in coorespondence. You'll
have to forgive me, then, for my tardiness. It's just that it's taken me a long
time to get these words just right.
Not that I've ever
have any trouble with words and you before. You've been the easiest person I've
ever had the pleasure of oratizing to. You've heard more speeches, more philosophy,
more stand-up, than anyone else on this God-green earth. Words aren't the problem.
I can't shut up enough, as you've pointed out. But getting the right words out,
aye, there's the rub.
So don't fret, and
don't get down. I promise this won't take long. Only short thoughts and short
stories for me, remember. My attention span is usually measured by an hour glass.
Maybe half. So here goes. And remember, please... this is only a test. If this
had been an actual emergency, this following message would be followed by a
This is only a test.
How do you do, love?
Love, a splendid word; can silence a crowded room, bring a tear to the dryest
eye, make the insides of a person turn and twist like a wet rag seeking to be
No, I do not think
you're a wet rag.
But I do think you're
swell. Cool. Approachable. Sincere. Funny. God, you're funny. I don't know how
the wind blows in your mind, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did cartwheels
in mid-air, and sommersaults over mountains. Your thoughts are skewered like
shishkabobs; a pretty red thought followed by a yellow one. All sorts of flavors,
and they're tasty in lime. No, I'm not hungry, either, just stating facts, ma'am.
I like you. You're
my kind of girl. Have I ever said that to you? I mean, really say that? I might
have hinted at it. Maybe insinuated it. My speech sometimes has levels so deep
dinosaurs can be found through enough digging. I can be more subtle than an
ant crawling over a shoe you're not
wearing. You don't know it's there, and frankly, you don't care. So let me be
blunt, Micah: you're my kind of girl.
That would be: the
kind of girl I dream about. Don't gush, you're not a fountain, I don't need
water. Listen up: the kind of girl I dream about. Smart. Check (you don't just
argue with me, you make me think and earn my hard-earned losses). Caring (even
if you are stingy with the radio station in the car). Funny (did I mention that
already. Sometimes I've thought to myself what I'd do if I were the only person
who thought the way I do. Then I think of me in Antartica, living alone in an
igloo. Then I think, man, I'm thinking of some weird stuff today). Positive
(you even make me believe that I could finish what I start. Wow). And you smell
nice too (well, you do.).
And that's it. Girl
of my dreams. At least most of the time. Occasionally she has long dark brown
hair, and looks like this model I saw once, and she's pretty naked, but that's
only occasionally so let's forget that.
And let's recall
you. I wouldn't know what I would do without you. You're like my water purifier.
And how did I ever get along without you? Probably drinking dirty water, that's
I feel clean now.
Pure. Hopeful. Look at that. I'm using nice words now.
I'm not gushing,
am I? I don't want to be a fountain either. But I'm pouring out, aren't I?
All this and more,
and all I had to do was scare the beegezus out of myself. Meeting you scared
the daylights AND night out of me. Like walking on eggshells, broken glass,
and boa constrictors with bare, bloody feet.
I guess I was slightly
nervous. You made my heart sail, and not in a good way.
I swallowed my pride,
my ego, my self-esteem, 3 pints of air and a piece of lung before I even talked
to you. Explains the dry mouth.
I racked my head
harder than any test I've ever taken. They were easy. All of them, compared
to you. I didn't want to fail. I didn't want to fail.
I would have passed
out, should have, from the lack of blood reaching my brain. Somehow it stopped
coming from my heart; my guess was it got caught somewhere around my neck. Explains
why I was so tense, then.
But I didn't pass
out. Cause you were cool. Like this was nothing for you. Just a good old time,
watching my heart explode. Which almost did but didn't. Cause you were cool
and calm and somehow lowered my heartbeat to match yours. Sychronocity. Our
internal watches ticking at the same time. That was my first taste of being
cool like Micah.
And the rest, they
say, is history.
You've only got
yourself to blame, for all this mess. No
one to complain to, or demand explanations from, other than yourself. I warned
you. Said I was going to do something for you, about you.
If you're surprised
now, and gushing, well, don't look at me, I'm only the messenger. It's that
guy's fault, over there.
But I have a feeling
this is all going over pretty well.
You're cool like
that, you know.
And there you have
it. Starred and everything. A little late but I'm going in for some extra credit.
Hope you're having
fun in Happy Valley. The sunshine's been good over here. Except when it's been
cold and then I just stay in, and let the sun and wind fight it out.
When weather's come
to blows, I take shelter till someone's happy and wins. I don't like stepping
into anyone's business.
Take care, Micah. Hope
the spring and summer time is good to you. Enjoy the sun. But stay chill.
And remember, this
is only a test.