pro tempore

Dearest Dana,

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways… I love thee with the speed and click and hum of my PC…

This is how it all started (on a blog), and so it seems appropriate that we tie the knot here on the web, incorporating as many applications as possible. I remember the day (back in 2006) when I acted on the strong but sublimated desire to write poetry by googling something along the lines of “help hopeless beginners become poets.” And I found a poetry site that seemed all about that—it was welcoming to poets at all stages of development, it was inspiring, and it was led by this super-cool chick with an awesome blog.

I fell for your writing first. It was (and is) fresh. It was honest and alive and different. It made me want to write. It made me need to read; I would get thirsty for your work when there wasn’t something new posted. I was hooked. I read and re-read everything you’d written on your blog. I e-stalked you, but without being too creepy about it.

Something magical happened around that time: I began writing poetry. The things I had inside that had always felt like poems began to surface, and because of the work you had done (on that site and on the subsequent ones) I had a place to share it.

Things between us really got exciting when you started talking about collaborative poetry, and (I believe this is how it happened) asked for volunteers to co-po with you, and I jumped on the opportunity. The things we’ve written together are some of my favorites, and the process of writing together always changes me, opens me up to new ideas, gets me excited about writing.

I’ve learned through all this how spectacular you are as a person. You get big ideas and you follow through on them. You are smart as a whip and fun as a firecracker. You make me laugh until I pee my pants, and then you tease me about it later. You are also vulnerable and kind and somehow still strong as steel. It all comes out in your writing—whether it’s poems, nonfiction, or blog babble. You’ve articulated things that have helped me understand poetry, love, suffering, grief, relationships, and life better than ever before. (Poetry is prayer. Poetry is bread. Poetry is better made between two friends than all alone.)

In the middle of me being in awe of you is the fact that you were the first person to ever call me a poet. You, the one I watched and learned from, called me a poet. And it’s not just that you validated that part of myself before I even realized how much I wanted it. You have been a listening ear when I needed it. You are always up for an adventure. You are just as goofy and fun as you are deep and introspective. My internal life is 1,000x richer, having known you.

So come on, babe, let’s make some poetry!

Love & limericks,

Mrs. Blythe Funnelcake

p.s. How did I write this whole letter, and not mention you are a total fox? You are smart, lovely, wonderful, brilliant, funny, *and* hot. I’m sorry for getting caught up in all that deep, interpersonal, emotional stuff, and making it sound like this is just icing on the cake… because we both know we threw out the cake a long time ago, and this is icing within all the other icing. Scrumdiddlyumptious.

Not much is new with me. I am working a lot, and mostly liking it with the exception of interacting with one of my bosses. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t think I’m a great employee. Ugh. I am very blocked on writing. I am sitting down and trying things, and just hating the results. Not feeling unsure, but hating. I’m afraid I’ve lost any ability I once had.

As for dance, I think we may have had a miscommunication somewhere along the way… because I’m not dancing now. I have thought that I’d like to, but I can’t find anything affordable for amateur adults around here. Maybe when I move back into Houston. But I have thought about dancing a LOT over the last few weeks. Bubba (the best friend I write about on my blog all the time) is one of the people who got me into dance, and she’s visiting in a couple weeks, and maybe I’ll be able to get her to dance with me.

The professor… I am so weird when it comes to guys. I really kind of like him, which means I’ve stopped talking to him entirely. I simply can’t. It might kill me. We do have a date set up for next week (he does live an hour away, and our work schedules are rather incompatible, so it’s hard to coordinate stuff), so all is not lost. But I was hoping I wouldn’t slip into old habits so quickly.

Thanks for emailing me. It was nice to see your name in my inbox, and it was indeed worth plowing through the reticence to write this. Maybe the tide is turning…

[Blythe]

p.s. Have you ever watched Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations? It always makes me happy, at least a little bit. And I’ll take what I can get. I’d give up all my reservations for Mr. Bourdain!