Thursday, April 3, 2008
This Jam Guy. He sends me presents in the mail: home-made cookies, and walnuts he's picked himself. He buys me tickets to fly to his house and then he rubs my feet, serves me elaborate home-cooked meals, feeds me figs and gorgonzola and makes me feel beautiful for three-and-a-half days straight. Then when I get home I call him and cry about how hard my life is, and he still loves me.