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February 3, 2009
I guess I'm willing to let you decide what “normal” is for both of us. It's a terrible and unhealthy idea, but left to my own devices I would come home every evening, drink up all the Port, eat a fistful of chocolate chips for dinner, and pass out on the floor. Your nightly phone calls, as insane as they are, are keeping me sane.

“I'm lying in bed,” you tell me, “with the phone resting on my ear.”

What are you thinking? I would give anything to read 100 of your words, if they were true.