I saw a video today. Angie had taped it for me. She has the MTV, VH1, music video channels, but we don't have cable. I miss cable, but Frank doesn't like it when I watch TV all day. I understand. I burn dinner or forget to make it entirely when I am watching TV. Mom always called it idiot box, and I can confess I know why. You don't have to think any more. It will tell you everything you ever wanted to know, to see, to feel...

And Angie showed me Tony Horton.

Watching him move as he sings... he reminds me of some tiger working its way through the wild looking for prey. He is very aware of how he moves, and it is calculated to stir, entrance, and seduce. He looks at me looking at him, and I know he sees inside my soul.

I could not bear to watch it twice. He knows me now. He knows everything about me. He even knows about that poor 3rd grader who shoved me out of the way in line for the school bus when I was in kindergarten, whom I brained with my Grizzly Adams lunchbox. And I haven't even told Frank that story.

I don't know if I should be pleased or frightened. I made Angie take it away, and I cannot listen to my tapes tonight. I am afraid to cook dinner.

But I cannot explain this to Frank. He'd never understand why I had a Grizzly Adam lunchbox.  ¶ 2:41 PM