Thursday, February 22, 2007

what would it mean to say I loved you in my fashion?

I don't have anything worthwhile to write, and just to prove how little I have of worth to write, I'll share with you possibly the worst birthday message I have ever written to my dearest friend on the planet, sent yesterday (and folks, I'm cleared to eat solid food as of yesterday, so really, I have no excuse):

Can I just tell you something? Don't take this the wrong way, but just- happy birthday.

See, every year I try to write you something meaningful and ultimately sappy and ridiculous on your birthday, how great you are, and how great it is to know you, and blah blah blah. Really, when I think of what I've written, I just hear blah blah blah, a blur of nothing, the background fluctuations on a 60Hz NMR.

Here's the thing I want to say. There's nothing left to say. And that's what is so great, as far as I am concerned. There's nothing left unsaid. You'd have to be crazy to doubt what you mean to me. And have we grown apart or grown together or grown at all? I don't know. Honestly, does that matter either? I am just always happy that I knew you, that I know you, in whatever capacity it is that we know and don't know each other.

And it's your birthday so you should be happy too. Be happy, stay happy- happy happy happy happy from me to you. And oh, to answer your question, I'm not on drugs right now.

Breaking a personal best in brevity, but with no less affection than always,

Yep. One too many happy's, smacking of laziness and shoddy construction- I am doing a bang up job of telling everyone how I much they mean to me these days.

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