3/13/96
I've got pictures of Madonna posted all over my wall. I love them. A friend of mine, who I met via email, sent them to me and asked nothing in return. That is why I feel so guilty saying this: I want more. Sometimes, I pretend to caress the pieces of paper. Am I loony? I guess so. Either I'm loony or I have a really sick mind. What's wrong with that? I'm not hurting anyone with it, am I? Just sitting here typing words on my keyboard. Well, maybe I am. Words. They cut like a knife. If I'm hurting people with my words, it's because those words are associated with hurt in their past. What about pictures? Doesn't a picture speak a thousand words? Somehow, it just doesn't seem the same. If I could choose between having phone sex, no wait, Internet sex, with Madonna, and having a muted teleconference with her, what would it be? Would I rather see how she responds to me visually, or would I like to exchange words? I don't know. If she really wanted to make me go through a tough decision, she'd make me choose. I don't think I'd be able to give an honest answer unless I was actually presented with the choice. But I know right now what I'd choose if a third option was presented. That is, if I were given the option to be blindfolded to where I could see nothing, and at the same given deafness, I would do it if I could touch her skin. Any part of it. Even a fingernail. Touch. I want to feel it.
-Inspired by Def Leppard, and the song
"Photograph."
"All I've got is a photograph"