Sun 18 Aug 1996 09:00
Dear Lise.
Dear Lise,

That is why I look at every one, by aura, to be
so I need to shave my hair. I am working on this problem. I love Lise, Kristen, Mollie, Dahviya, Adar. A lot of women. It is not often that a married or boy-friended woman has a good male friend.

I will try to imagine marriage. I will try to imagine a sexual relationship with one, but that does not work untill years later, maybe, as I see. Friends don't fuck. Is that right. Regardless, there is a problem here. There is something sex related, but not physical related.

Pretty much, we've been over this before, I love these women, it is good to be with them, some cause me more anguish than others, (lise) mainly because of the way we communicate (not in realtime, not in eachother's presence). This thing with Lise is more hopeless, for many reasons,. So I love Kristen, I want to see her every day. I want to see these ones every day, and morgan too.

I am happier writing now, knowing that it helps form coherent questions about the nature of my conciousness, and hers I hope. And That I have hers to talk to.

A girl, a woman, by an eagerness to shake my hand and a smile, stays with me now hours after. I do not know her friend's name, or her name, they are a little garishly stylish, but I think of her and she, my memory of her makes me smile. At the time I was not terribly impressive looking, and neither was my room. Me appreciating her, appreciating me appreciating her. and every time I use that person's idea, I feel a little violated, because I did not construct a variation on my own before.

And she from only that moment stays with me, and it is possible I should see her again, and less possible I should get to know her well, and I love her even though.

The problem is, some women give me this feeling, and I am not sure how it should be expressed. It is not the static appreciation of a bright pattern of shadows on the classroom wall, but it is the same appreciation of the moment and the sadness that she will be leaving soon.

Mollie and I were talking about love. I'm not sure how good a job we did. I am writing this whole thing for you Mollie, for myself mostly though, because it forms me, but perhaps it is the women who will read this, though I don't know why elles would waste leur temps. We cannot keep writing you realize, because we will always keep writing. Read the earliest first and work backward, and when you write, keep it comprehensible to the people who do not know of the past which you might.

We spoke of love, Gordon and I, and we said, to appreciate the person as she changes, because she is always changing, and wanting to see her grow.

I don't think that is love. I love the person when I am with her. I may love her when I am apart, but I will call that echoe or memory, and not an accurate example. Love is wanting to be with a person. If gordon called me up and asked me to go for a walk, I would have to think ere I would go. Eddie would go. If most any woman asked me to go for a walk, I would go, and only until I knew her better would I have to think more. I would not have to think for Mollie, and of women, here, She knows me better than the others, I guess. I feel more secure about her. That I could call her if I wanted, that I could email her, and not fear of some great misunderstanding, and also the familiarity makes It unlikely that I would do the things that cause such wonderful misunderstandings, or maybe they don't cause them, but that last long letter to sara was a masterpiece of strangeness, and I fear I may have to say goodbye to Lise the same way, though It could be a hello, I do not think she will take it to be though.

Love is wanting to be with a person? Is there a such thing as love. Remember, It is just a little word for a part of the whole of being, which can never be described, it can only be done, like by the lighthouse on the hill in Carmel Valley, I want to take them all to. And, poor Kyle, I will never forget her, though I will leave her alone, lest I molest myself.

Someday I will have to go there with another woman, or another guy I could talk to, and share all the associations with Kyle, because as I go back, my mind fills with whatever it is she means to me, all the places all the little times, even the places she was not, but I thought of her. I know of no-one who could take me crying to them about an other woman, so maybe there is another way. That is why I do not leave this place. because when I go there I want to see her, I want to know her I want to call her, and I know, she has had enough, though I always hope she would change, but I am wrong. And, lord, poor Caroline, and Becca, and Jennah, I love the ones who took it though, Stephanie, Jen, or did a good job like it.

Is there a such thing as love? There is appreciation, which is, simply wanting to be with that person.

.