My nerves are singing so hard the heavy metal thrashings in my muscles spasms are putting typos in all my shellscript commands.
If'n I were any more excited my hair would be, oh no wait, it *always* stands on end. Scratch that. ;)
I'm on superhyperontopofdaworld overload. I think I slept three hours last night. I crashed at 1, after demolishing chapter 2... And at 4:30 there was NO WAY I was sleeping anymore. I started this awesome new book...
So we're in Johnny's car.
Just ahead, on the shining asphalt streets (you can see *all* the asphalt today!), is a serenely graceful figure.
On a skateboard. A stork, with one leg folded, sometimes dropping his ruined sneaker to the ground for the almighty push, usually just standing atop his board with a foot up in the air.
I poke Johnny. Hey Johnny, look - he's *way* more graceful than you on that thing.
I can't take my eyes off this guy, until Johnny says "Hey, it's Mark! He lives just down from here, he's Canadian champ now, I think..."
Apparently they used to skate together.
Johnny rolls down my window and yells "Mark!". I've never seen such so stunning a smile. The remainder of the trekk down Sherbrooke was Mark vs John vs Mark vs John...
The street was a streak of nothing but bluescreen and Mark's antics. Everytime our paths would cross (he didn't have to wait behind cars, and fuck was he bootin' along) he'd drop into some old school pose and grin at John.
John finished his drive to drop me off with tears in his eyes. It took the entire remainder of the drive to explain all the little inside quips in Mark's poses...
I've never been *this* impressed with one of Johnny's jock boys before. Talk about brighter than life.
And my blood is pumping harder with every flash of that skateboard flipping, seared into the front of my brain.
And my fingers are still trembling with him, as they tremble with you every day.
Spring has sprung, I'm more alive than the drones could ever believe possible, and it's not even noon. Oh, and I love you.
Oh and remember:
