Out of bed.  Considered writing yesterday (like everyday).  In fact, I just remembered that I had actually opened the Movable Type new entry page.  Never stroked a single key, though.  Some more important diversion (which I can't recall now) distracted me. 

Considered writing of love--that was two days ago.  I wonder if this will catch on (like the original 100 things, maybe): make a list of--lets make it challenging--100 people who you love or have loved, and why.  Be brief. 


1.   My third grade teacher, Mrs. Tupper; because she loved me first. 
2.   My brother; he was my first best friend. 
3.   Not Elton John; he lied when what I needed most of all was the truth. 
4.   Not me; same as above. 
5.   Andrew, my landlord's grandson (he manages the building); because he's sweet and sincere and beautiful. 
6.   David Ackley, who was the very first one; because he was beautiful long before I had any clue how to appreciate beauty. 
7.   Juan Valdez; coffee. 
8.   Duke, my dog when I was a teenager; for being absolutely innocent, and for being a dog. 
9.   The shirtless young man with the tattoo and the necklace, who I see on his porch from my kitchen window; because he's cute.   (And, apparently, straight.)
10.  John, in Boston; because he's as loyal as a dog—and probably as innocent, too.  Oh, and because he loves me. 
11.  Anne, my supervisor at work; because she sees behind my disguises and its OK. 
12.  A teenage crush who is straight, Jimmy Bruce; I have no idea why. 
13.  David Fiske, another straight-boy teenage crush; because he accepted me loving him, and he loved me.  He probably still does. 
14.  The Thompson Twins; for Hold Me Now. 
15.  Neil Michael Medin, who is not remarkably pretty but is terribly attractive, who has sold me every bike I have owned for fifteen years; for his sincere kindness and integrity, and for his knowing without saying. 
16.  The cab driver who comes over for sex; for knowing where to go, how to get me there, and for always coming back, no matter how much I said, 'don't.' 
17.  My great-aunt Helen; for staying kind against all odds, and for teaching me—when I was nine—how to crochet and how to love no matter what. 
18.  My kindergarten teacher, Mary Winning; for inventing the world for me. 
19.  Boy George; for always being himself, unfinished, unconventional, unapologetic. 
20.  My ex-friend, Scott M.; for letting me love him, sans sex, which must have been more difficult for him to do than I can possibly imagine. 
21.  Bobby, the love of my life, with whom I realized that making love did not necessarily make anything at all like love; because he's guilless, abused yet endlessly forgiving, strong as rock and good to the core but as delicate and sensitive as the morning's most fleeting precious dream. 
22.  Mary, the Half Mad Spinster; for laughing and smiling and reading and writing, for crying right out loud (when necessary) and hearing me when I do, and for being a person as sturdy and honest as anybody I have ever met—in person, or not. 
23.  A bellboy/pianist I met when I worked on Cape Cod in the summer of 1989, Christopher Castle; because he had nearly as much—or perhaps even more—affection for me as I had for him. 
24.  Peter, the pastry chef, who was my best friend during that same season on the Cape; because he loved me and because I never told him that I loved him. 
25.  Tim Willis, my boss that year on the Cape (it would seem I love just about everyone I met that year!)  I love Tim because he was tough, open-minded, hugely energetic, playful, sweetly charming, kind, understanding... and he told me at the end of the season that he wished I would stay through the winter. 
26.  And of previous fame in this blog, also from that year on Cape Cod—I need a break from this reminiscing—Peter Weidenmann; for being the one person who, even though I thought he would never notice the likes of me because he was so cool, not only noticed me, but focused on me.