I love you and your lack of shoes. I want to be an eeyore!

_{1:56 am - Wednesday,February 6, 2002}

it's been a while since i visited here, and i must say i approve. i trust that your writing satisfies you. the layout has changed, which saddens me slightly, but all things must evolve. continue creating. best wishes.

_{2:58 pm - Sunday,January 27, 2002}

Hey i dig your writing ,keep it up.. :-)

_{11:42 pm - Saturday,January 26, 2002}

Chris, You are wonderful!

_{11:26 pm - Friday,January 25, 2002}

christophe, i already am eeyore. also, i am overly qualified, since a goldfish i had when i was four was named eeyore sponge. my next cat will be named biali. if you would please continue to write i would most appreciate it. sometimes i feel like a foreigner with a very much less-than-strong grip on the english language, so forgive please me if i am incomprehensible. peace. i'm out.

_{7:34 pm - Monday,January 21, 2002}

Dandelion petals. That's it.

_{10:09 am - Monday,January 21, 2002}

I just wanted to say that I was supremely glad that things are looking up for you. It made me smile and feel all warm and squishy because things are going well. There is always a silver lining, yada-yada-yada. :-)

_{3:02 am - Tuesday,January 15, 2002}

So finally, finally, I have a chance to read all of this -- or to start, at least, because spending anything less than an hour at it is like sculpting granite with a popsicle stick. And I have just been extensively barfed on, which I don't think sets quite the right mood for this kind of exploration -- but it certainly gets the surreality aspect down pat. You are creating something very, very important here. And sometimes I think that writing *is* your adventure; that it will never be 'a living' for you, so much as an exploration that doesn't require you to go anywhere but where your mind takes you..and where it takes your readers. Don't ever, ever stop.

_{10:32 pm - Sunday,January 13, 2002}

so i don't know what to say. it's strange, then, how one person can be so articulate as long as they're sure they're not saying much of anything at all, but as soon as it begins to matter, their tongue dries up & sticks to the roof of their mouth. you have inspired me in ways that you probably can't even begin to comprehend. and I haven't really been *here* recently. it all adds up. chris. I don't know what I can say. Things don't work out--things fall apart, things get washed up on shore and their last breaths choke them into asphyxiation. But things get better. I believe this: they get better and worse. Maybe they don't really get beter--maybe they shouldn't even be measured on some arbitrary scale of "better" & "worse". they just are. but they change, if only a little at a time; if only by circumstance. it's Ok to contribute to a downfall. as long as you aren't taking yourself down. (sometimes I wonder if I should even be saying this. but my heart is not a copyright; i don't have to buy the rights.) chris. look around you. just be. for five minutes, don't think. don't pretend not to exist, *feel* everything. be. let it all pass through you. let the world spin out on a tangent. don't follow it. just watch. be. for those five minutes, you are beholden to nothing & no one. (don't try to analyse it. you don't have to think about it, explain it, deny it. you don't have to do anything. you could ignore it. but you could try it. just once, try it. and maybe something would begin to make sense) chris. you are a small-town hero in the most literal sense. there are other places; not all of them are small. you could be a hero. don't let life swallow you whole; don't let the embers burn you alive. but only if you want it.

_{1:05 am - Sunday,January 13, 2002}

so we both made our mothers cry. it was unintential- just happened. and when it was over i was standing in my doorway, she was crying and saying sorry and she didn't know i would get upset- she doesn't 'want things to be this way' and waiting for me to say something... i was just...staring. and then i thought of you, and the parallel scared me a bit, but i couldn't do anything- just closed the door when my mom was done waiting... i wish i could sweep you off to bali, you know. so we could just worry about fishing and getting calf-deep in rice pools...something physically sustaining for once... and things wont always be like this. <-- and that's meant to be a good thing.

_{0:07 am - Sunday,January 13, 2002}