Just what I was looking for. Only different.

You are essential to this blog. “You” is, I mean. So many blogs stuck on that “I.” Let’s say one of the things this blog will be doing is breaking that – that “I” – open. With an address.

My “I.” And yours.

Search for Delicious is a good song by Panda Bear with a particularly good title for a blog. We had an email chat (I’m on a stupid PC, so unfortunately no i-chat with cute excited bubbles) and it wasn’t really a favorite on that album for either of us. I said “Bro’s” was mine, because I just couldn’t get over that sobbing. That’s probably significant. That I can’t get over the sobbing. You said “Good Girl/ Carrots” was yours. I leave it up to you to decide if that’s significant. But I’m listening to “Search for Delicious” right now, and it’s a damn good song. I sent it to you on a CD for your birthday, or something, around this time last year. It was Easter time. I know, because there are lots of parties in Berlin at Easter time for creatures of my ilk. I’m getting ready to go back. Last year, Panda Bear was my early morning company, after a shower and before settling into sleep. You know what? I remember weeping. I think I got an email from you saying that you were loving Panda Bear. And I remember answering, “You know, I thought you would.” And I was weeping because apparently I like to, but only for particular, and particularly good, reasons. And my suspecting you’d like the music and your actually liking it and telling me so, along with the fact that I’d been out all night dancing and having sex and had come back “home” to birds atwitter while I hung out the window to smoke, watching the shadow of the tree on the building behind the pad where my boyfriend and I were staying in Prinzlauerberg – well, actually, there are a lot of particular and particularly good reasons to weep with gratitude in that series of associations, which I find writing you about searching for delicious.

“We” might be integral to this blog, too. Now there’s a pronoun we’ve got trouble with today. I’d be willing to bet that we are having so much trouble because I forget how to talk to you. (In this instance, those are abstract entities, nobody’s pronouns in particular, just pronouns). But what we’ve been discovering, or what I, at least, have discovered over and over, is that there’s a voice I use when I speak to you. (Here, the pronouns couldn’t be more personal). Just writing to you recalls that voice. Gives that voice to me. As mine. Only thanks to you. I’m interested in that series of circumstances. They are circumstances that bear repeating. Because when I write to you, I find just what I was looking for. Only different.