from my friend who's diving in Africa
I've got a funny story for you. There is an Internet cafe in downtown that I always go to and I am becoming good friends with one of the guys who works there. Last Saturday, a beautiful Tanzanian girl was in the place the whole time that I was there. My friend seemed to know her well, and a day later I asked him about her.

"Oh, that's my sister, you like her?" After a few more days, I returned and he told me that she wanted to meet me and he gave me her phone #. Two days ago, I was back there, and this time I was talking to the girl's mother, telling her of her daughter's beauty and my desire to know her daughter.

Her reply "Ng'ombe kumi." I understood what she was saying but still had to ask her to please repeat it. With her fingers spread wide to emphasize the point, she says "Ten cows." No questions asked, nothing, just 10 cows. That's the going rate.

to my pen-pal Lucas in Canada; he's an actor, playing an ant in a children's production
O.K., i was gunna answer all yr points one by one like usual but now I'm drunk and i figured you'd appreciate that more. So, THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL just left. We went and saw QUILLS which is about (PS> I'm not correcting any typos) the Marquis De Sade, so, not only is he French (she's really into France) and not only is his last name the same as the woman who recorded the best album of the year (tied with OutKast), but the movie was about how creating art is the only way to purge evil from your soul. And y'know, I've been writing about her this whole time, and she's been reading it, and man, I've been fucking fearless, for once in my weakling life, and she thinks it's beautiful but her friends tell her I'm nuts and I think she's having a hard time deciding if I'm crazy or beautiful, which made this movie, QUILLS, all the more relevant for us.

But first, I took her to PIZZA DIVE to eat, cause it's BYOB there (there's a church next door so we're not allowed to sell alcohol, when the customers complain, 'No beer?' I always tell em, 'Yeah, blame it on god.'), and because they let me eat for free, even on my days off. I made us this giant genre-less, 10 pound, Frankenstein Pizza, popped it in the oven and we went and sat in Alana's section.

Alana comes up to me with the Brazilian cheek kiss, then does the same to THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL, who kinda stumbles with it and Alana rolls her eyes to me and walks off. I thought that kind of odd. So THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL and I are sitting at the table waiting for our pizza to cook and getting fucked up on beer and laughing like a couple of dumb idiots (It was so great, I was so in love) and when Alana passes our table, I try to get her attention but she ignores me. Four times this happens until, the fifth time she passes us I yell to her, "What's wrong?" But she doesn't answer, just looks at me blank.

So, I follow her into the kitchen on the way to pick up our pizza, but Alana won't turn around when I talk to her. "The other day we're tight friends and now you won't talk to me?" I ask as I'm following behind her, pleading and staring at her ass, "What? What did I do? What's up? Talk to me." And I'm following her through the kitchen, in front of all those macho dudes laughing at me for giving a fuck about a woman (one who's getting married no less), and when I've followed her into the far back room where they store dry goods, far away from anyone, she turns like she's going to bite my face as she says, "I HATE working when you're not here!" Then she storms past me back out to the dining room to wait tables. And the guys in the kitchen laugh at me as I pass through on my way back to THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL, but they'd be so fucking jealous if they knew what Alana just said to me.

At the table, THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL says, "That girl's jealous," but I'm still not buying that. But just in case, before we leave, when I go into the kitchen to get a TO-GO box for our Franken-pizza, I pull Alana aside and tell her, lying or not, just to see her reaction: "You know…I'd rather be here working with you, than going to the movies with her." Alana just breezed past me back into the dining room. So, THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL and I took off.

During the movie, we're playing the hand game; speaking through innocent forms of touching, like, whole conversations with our hands. Mutual Admiration Society type handholding, stroking, god I can't pay attention to the movie but when I do, it's good. A little melodramatic, but good themes.

We returned to my place and as soon as we're in the door, the phone rings and it's FRECKLED GIRL, she wants to come over. I tell her, "Yeah, I'll call you when THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL leaves." And actually Lucas, I have to go now cause I hear FRECKLED GIRL pulling into THE FRIENDSHIP GARDEN.

things are always good no mater how bad they get,
Mike

a second letter, seconds later, to my pen-pal Lucas, in Canada; he's still an actor playing an ant in a children's production
No, I was wrong, she isn't here yet. It was just my neighbors across the street leaving in their station wagon. They just had a baby; they think they're such hot shot now cause they had a baby.

Anyways, back to my story: After I hang up with FRECKLED GIRL, I go back into my living room to try and kiss THE LITTLE RED-HAIRED GIRL. She says no. I leave it be. A few minutes later she says she's leaving. She leaves, and as I'm walking into the kitchen to the phone, I'm on the other side of the wall, perfectly parallel from THE LITTLE REDHAIRED GIRL who is walking down the stairs to her car. Picture this: we're walking side by side, the wall separating us, her outside, me in, her to her car, me to the phone, to call FRECKLED GIRL, who is knocking on my door as we speak. For real this time. Gotta go.

I am of the moment,
mike

excerpt from a discussion I'm having with a girl with poor spelling who is reluctant to tell me her name: the ">" is her. The "---" is me (also, I am emboldened).
>i dated a periuvien guy once and was blown away by the beauty and romance, and the sense of connection he seemed to have with the rest of the world.
---It's maturity, and an appreciation for the dramatic. Maybe that's what I meant to say instead of "violence". When I'm with Latinas I always imagine us fighting, and her throwing something at me, and I find myself liking that image. I don't want to that to happen, but the idea that, if I get out of line she will smack me across the mouth...not that I want it to happen, but knowing the possibility is there, is exciting.

>why do you think they have a propensity for violence? i never noticed.
---maybe I'm buying into a stereotype. But when I talk to Alana, at work, I can tell that she could get fierce with less of a push than the white girls I know. And I mean that in a good way; it means she's strong, I've seen that in the eyes of all my Hispanic female friends. But now that I think about it, I haven't seen that in the males. I've heard they are possessive, and I assume that would come with a certain degree of willingness to physically protect; but now I think that maybe I was just projecting.

>and in what way do you like feeling threatened?
---maybe I like it just because I'm used to it. Or maybe I'm just talking shit and being dramatic. But I do always tell people that, ideally, I'd like a woman as an equal, friends, partners, but in the back of my mind I want to know, 'this woman could level me'. I don't want her to level me, I want her to love me far too much to ever do such a thing. But I want to know it's there. That's more of a restatement than an answer to your question though. I guess I don't know why? Just what.

>are you looking to get married sometime soon, if so, I'm available
---yes. but I'd rather die alone than do it out of desperation.

- Common Place