Regarding Morgan,

there's this joke that I want to tell her but I can't because it's one of those jokes that you have to do in person, but man, would Morgan love this joke. There's this one joke that we both know that, I think, only a small smattering of people in the world would find funny. About clowns.

Which is not to say that all I appreciate about Morgan is that she finds the same jokes funny. I think the best part about Morgan is that it's so easy to be with her without any pretension. I'll call her and say, "Wow, this conversation is really awkward." And she'll respond, "It's because we haven't spoken in a long time and we've lost the flow." Which, is you know, true, but also kind of rude. But refreshingly rude.

This is exactly the thing about Morgan - I can write that she's refreshingly rude, and she'll love it. She'll likely place my comment in a massive quote stockpile, and use it in a blog entry three years later. She's not blind to her flaws, or anyone else's for that matter. Although she'd never say this, Morgan is a lover of American-ness in all it's fuck-ups. Morgan would never call herself a lover.

We've remained unlikely friends. Morgan and I once watched a movie with the volume too low, and subtitles. She drove the coast of California while I tripped for the first time on mushrooms. We saw Pretty Girls Make Graves, and grew into adulthood together. I am fortunate to call her a lasting friend, and whole-heartedly endorse her blog at dullstar.diaryland.com