We're such fragile, vulnerable, wonderful saps though, aren't we?


Sending brave, beautiful words into the email abyss. It's this curse of such uncertainty which we nevertheless dance with regularly, so seduced by its great possibility.

For there could someday, somewhere be out there a man who truly appreciates our melancholy, wistful whimsy. Someone who sees in the fragile skin of silly soap bubbles we send forth something truly beautiful and worth cherishing: us, as well our words.

Yet we must still beware the poets ... who would woo us with their false, deceptive mastery of language; a thing so easily mistaken for true caring, true character, true courage (to love).

Not all who prize the soap-bubble ... prize the dish-washer. ;)

—from an email to a likewise idealistic friend

posted @ 03:09 PM on Mon - January 27, 2003 remark! Email |  as quoted:
before I said ...  but more recently: 

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