July 12, 2002

And then you find out a friend is in trouble

Oh boy. How to start this one. No sooner had I hit 'publish' on my tribute to RB's antics than my email dinged in telling me mail's here. I almost ignore it, assuming it is late night spam, but I hop over and find an email from Ann with a note saying that Marek is in the hospital. Ann's post gives as much information as there is to know right now. She also gives such a loving tribute to Marek--to what makes him special, them special--that I had to include some of it here. Read the language of love:

"All I want right now is Marek healthy. No pain. I want to rub my face on his chest. I want to touch his strong legs. I want to watch his fingers on a keyboard and marvel at how facile his fingers are. Working magic on a keyboard. Magic with words. Magic in languages unknown to me. I want to out-funny each other. I want to grill halibut and vegetables listening to Adore/Smashing Pumpkins and Marek's magic fingers on my keyboard. I want to feel his facile fingers on my body. I want to wrestle and tickle and playfight with him. I want to smell him. I want to feel his smooth, soft skin. I want to kiss his sweet head. I want to have a conversation about a paragraph I read by Helene Cixous. What does he think? This is what I saw. I want Marek healthy. Happy. Engaged in conversations for what's possible."

Ann, please let us know if there's anything we can send or do, and we'll make it happen. Please know--and let Marek know--that we're with him and with you, sending positive thoughts and prayers and pieces of conversations to him on the wind so he doesn't miss a thing.