Wednesday, June 25, 2003

Ben. Not my Ben. Or my original Ben, anyway. My work Ben. Not really a Ben of mine at all, but I a Ben I know. And a Ben none of those of you who are reading this will know. So, for all intents and purposes, my Ben.

Ben comes to mind because he's the only one left to come to mind. Everyone else is gone for the summer or was gone for the schoolyear and now seems somehow unapproachabole for the summer. Or they're busy as fuck, or I don't want to spend time with them anymore, or I want to desperately, but can't. (None of these categories include Zack, who's spending more and more time with his unbearably selfish family. Maybe they'd let me just adopt him.)

So I look forward to Ben working, because we talk and play games when it's not busy, and write stories on the sandwich wrappers before giving them out, and try to carve religious images into the meat so that people will believe they've found a miracle in their value meal. I'd be a litte hesitant to have anymore friendships with males at all, knowing how they tend to get processed with me, but I have to see him at work, anyway, and it's safe know, unless we get put on an overnight together.

Casey's online-- he so rarely is anymore-- and I am reminded, again, of how much I miss him. I've been having dreams about him lately. Missing him ranges to and from every aspect of our relationship, but it's mostly...I don't know. Attacking him with a puppet in a Freeport bookstore. Making fun of the Ninety-Nine's decorations. Lounging on my porch in the sun. The good stuff.

Uh, it's bothering me even to get into this. Fuck it all. On with it.