On Mon, 26 Jun 1995, Kirk Is. wrote:

> it's safe to ignore my previous letter, I guess you figured that out.
>
> It's weird- at first I get annoyed at not having a goodnight kiss, and
> then I get annoyed at my annoyance.  Meta-annoyance.  Guys who really want
> to be nice guys get into situations like that a lot.  Which is one of the
> reasons I like Garrison Keillor, 'cause he can condense those feelings
> into words.  See, sometimes we're torn, we really are.  On the one hand we
> *want* to be the 'safe' person, the sanity restoring guy a woman can go to
> after too much chaos and strife, the 'perfect gentlemen,' (and not just
> because we hope it will give us better chances later on..) On the other
> hand, well, we don't.  We grow tired of being passionless, enthusiasm
> spent on something as unsensuous as C compilers, for cryin' out loud.  We
> get fantasies from here to Chicago.  We look at the person who we're "just
> snuggling" with on the couch, and we notice the way their limbs drape so
> easy and comfortably over our own, the angles beautiful (it wasn't just a
> line tonight , honest) and we sense *possibility*, the stored-up energy of
> it all...
> 	"Just being friends" seems like the kiss of death: "Why can't
> friends kiss?" we think, even as we nod our solemn consent with the
> person, with the *friend*, we're agreeing with, "Why can't they *feel*?"

well, i kiss many friends, but sometimes that gets me into trouble.  i've
found it easier to keep that sort of thing to a minimum...

> 	I don't want to go against your sanity.  Still, I think back to
> the easy grace that happened last September, and mourn its loss.  Your
> kiss and your touch, can make me shiver like none other.

wow!

>	But I know
> you've heard all this before, that you've seen it all and found that all
> the broken communications, all the misunderstandings and desperate
> explanations that seem to always be the baggage for that kind of
> physicalness just aren't worth it.  But I still have hopes that it doesn't
> have to be that way.  Do I have any evidence for that?  No, it's just a
> feeling.  After all, last September you came back to my little room twice,
> maybe three times, and I acted like an idiot for months after.  But I
> would say that that was a response to other things, the way the
> communication just totally died out, me not really understanding your
> response to my preferred medium e-mail, or your stress that school brings on.
>
> 	(And then there's the side of me that says, if the physical isn't
> tied into all that meaning the way I claim it isn't, if it is good but
> not truly important, then why am I writing so much about it?  Well, the
> usual reasons, I guess.)

homones?

> 	I have a theory.  Maybe it's just a hodge-podge of hopeful
> euphamisms that justify me basically doing whatever the hell I want as
> long as it doesn't hurt anyone else, but at least it's a theory I could
> consistently live with as a principle.  (Also, maybe I've spouted all this
> at you before...) I think the division between friendship and love is
> ridiculous and often painful.  It's like the Louis Armstrong line: "I see
> friends shaking hands/ saying 'how do you do?'/ they're really saying/ 'I
> love you'/ and I think to myself/ What a wonderful world".  That's what
> it's all about, a spectrum of the same thing, the joy two people can have
> being around each other.  That's not to say there isn't something different
> between a physical relationship and a non-physical one, but too much of an
> emphasis is placed on that difference by lots of people, including, at the
> moment, me, which goes on to prove the futility of writing about this
> stuff.
>
>
> 	Oh well.
>
> 	I'd love to take the opportunity to teach you more about Visual
> Basic and C, if you'd let me.  (At least I write better programs than I
> do poems-)  I promise I'll keep my clamor for a kiss to a dull murmur-
> but I still think there's a spark there that has the potential for real
> beauty, if only you'd let it...

i think you're right, in some ways.  i look at you and see the sort of
person i respect and admire, the sort of person i might like to make a
permanent part of my existience, but there's something that's *not* there
as well.  i can't really tell you what it is; it's too hard to put into
words.  i guess the one thing that attracts me more to some people than
to others is an ability to make me feel safe and loved.  i know you think
you might be able to do that, and perhaps it's true, but i don't have the
insight to discuss it right now.  suffice it to say i've found it more
easily elsewhere.

> 	I guess I'll just pretend I have "Don't Speak...Don't...Don't
> Speak...Don't- Speak.." slapped all over the end of this letter, that way
> I can pretend you're so bowled over by the beauty of my prose (heh) that
> words just wouldn't do it justice.  (Though secretly, I would be happy if
> you wrote back and told me what was on your mind, or called, or anything.
> I can't believe you're so pessimistic about e-mail.  Those times you cut
> loose, summers ago, they were amazing- you write superbly, when you let
> yourself.  ("My *taste* is superb- my *eyes* are exquisite...")) (sign of
> a computer geek: carefully nested paranthesis, and never putting the
> puncuation inside a quoted "word".)
>
> 	Anyways.  Let me show you that computer stuff.  I'll be on good
> behavior, and I'm happy to just be around you- you're funny and beautiful
> and I have that masochistic streak anyway.
>
> 				Talk to me?
> 					-Kirk-

i'll most happily let you teach me visual basic.  perhaps some kahlua and
ice cream would come in handy...

i won't let you hope that anything will come of this.  i like your
company, especially when we can sit closely enough to feel companionable,
but please don't-  speak.

:)
r

this isn't as long as i'd have liked it to be, but my thoughts have all
fled before your stunning prose! ;)