Wednesday, September 01, 2004


Ned is like the male version of me. I don’t know if he likes me saying that, but sometimes it feels so true, it bops me on the head.

Ned likes to be alone. He likes to hear music, and watch DVD’s and “cry softly into his pillow”. Ned is sardonic and caustic and fun. He has a special ring on my cell phone – his ring is drums.

Ned and I watch bad movies, and bad TV, and laugh.

Ned gets depressed and isolates himself. I worry about him. Sometimes he vanishes for awhile, but he always comes back.

Ned knows “the lucky ones are dead” will crack me up. Ned thanked me in his liner notes. He makes me feel all famous.

He’ll do the creepy voice from that movie that freaks me out. He knows which one. It makes me laugh and he won’t stop doing it.

Ned is there when I need him. He always comes to my birthday parties. He’s always the last to leave. He’ll help me clean up, if I want.

because I said so