My Dearest Dooblicoon,

How right you are, I have been lax in my correspondence with you and I do apologize profusely. Now that you mention it I do believe you are correct in your theory that since high school the only emails I have written you stem from some sort of fight we have experienced. How outrageous! Well, I decided that instead of just emailing you I would try and make up for these past few years of willfully disobedient behavior and not only send you something with my thoughts, but put it out there for everyone else to see. Let it be known to all who read this, I am writing to my dear Dooblicoon, read on if you wish but it will most likely just disturb and bewilder you.

Doobli, sign me up for that club you were talking about. Although I'm not at all interested to have the last shred of whatever femininity I have in your eyes torn away from me, if it's all in the sake of good fun and if it promises an apartment downtown with high ceilings, great natural light, and old dark wood then I am all over it. Interesting though. Last I heard Buckman was in the running, seems now you have opted for your twin. Not that I'm at all opposed, just wondering if perhaps we should call some sort of club meeting before you execute such powers. Power hungry already? I certainly hope not. I would hate to have to go behind your back and have you black-balled before you even got out of the gates. Watch yourself Doobli, word on the street is someone vile is already spreading rumors that you can't hack it as club leader, something about a D in a Calculus class a few years back. Horrible and hateful lies I'm sure, you know how this rat race can be.

Anyways, no worries my boy I'm sure any ridiculous rumors involving prior math grades and insulting slipups involving the sexuality of past teachers can easily be quashed once word spreads about your incredibly strong inner thigh muscles. I was brainstorming today, in between drinking my chai and daydreaming about my mother's womb, what your slogan would be if we indeed need to get you elected into your position. We need to emphasize the unbelieve strength of those thighs of yours but must also make mention of your calves and the fact that at specific times in your life while in a confined area with what quite easily could have been a 5:1 girl/guy ratio many asked, many questioned, many screamed out loud..."Why is Jeff so sexy?". I think that will be your foot in the door.

I absolutely despise the fact that you deny me chasing you around a room with sweaty panty liners right before I was chastised by Linda. One of my favorite memories of you indeed. I snuck up behind you and started to put them in your face. You did one of those sudden and loud, "Oh my God!" things that you do so well. You jumped up and sworn that if I came any closer to you there'd be some sort of hell to pay. I took a step closer and that's when Linda yelled at us both to sit down and shut up. You looked relieved and I laughed because you got yelled at along with me even though you were in actuality simply protecting yourself from my profusely sweaty armpits.

Oh, very quickly before I forget. The bellhop from the hotel called. He finally got his pictures developed, something that I think we're all aware he's been promising to do since the beginning of February! Anyway, they're finally in and he said and I quote, "That one of you and Dooblicoon is absolutely smashing!" He wants to know if we want 4x6 or 5x7. I told him the bigger the better but I also said I'd check with you first. He said if he gets them in before we're back in town he'll just leave it in the room with my blue backpack and your green bag- room 911 right?

Anyway, I got off track. You know how I always fight you on driving all the way out to that movie theatre that's ridiculously far away? I say: It's too damn far! You say: It's fifteen minutes away! I say: (Nothing, I just look at you) You say: Ok, maybe 20 or 25, but it's the best one! Then eventually we make our way out there. My confession: That drive home, late at night, down that strip where no one else is around, us blasting the music (whatever the latest song is that we're both obsessed with that you luckily thought to burn onto a cd which I finally locate once we've tried about 18 different cds because you think it's fun to never label them) those are some of my most treasured times with you. The way we both belt out the song, but it's loud enough where we don't embarrass ourselves. The thing you do with your hand in the air when it comes to a part you really love...you kind of point with two fingers and punch out the words as if to emphasize with your entire body the value of the lyrical content. I never want that road to end, or the song, or the undeniable and powerful energy that flows between us at that point. It's like its own living and breathing entity and I feel like I can reach out and grab it, peel it and eat it slowly and carefully like a banana while you watch closely as I swallow it to make sure I'm doing it correctly (ooh, never thought that would have sexual undertones to it but to those reading it and not knowing the meaning we sound really dirty don't we? Ha, let them think what they want, it was a blizzard for God's sake and we had to do what we had to do to survive).

Well I believe it's time for me to head to bed and end this little witnessed by the world (as if the entire world is reading my journal) email to you. I just wanted to end by thanking you for your email, the one you sent after "The whole world fuckin' ended!". You once again broke through when no one else could. How do you do that damn it? Does it have anything to do with that flax that you consume on a daily basis? Well however it is that you manage to shrink yourself down till you're small enough to sneak into that little crevice of my soul, the one that pumps with my many fears, doubts, and insecurities, brave the treacherous environment and make it back out alive only to rush to my side and promise that tomorrow will be a better day...well for that I can call you nothing short of a miracle. Thank you for everything.

Love Always,
Triaxcylil