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Thursday, May. 02, 2002 / 7:06 p.m. ~Moby, I Love You!~ I just ate something I could share with Moby, tomatoes with fresh mozzarella, extra virgin olive oil, salt, pepper and dill seasoning. Yeah, dill. One of those "garlic saltless" seasoning mixes that I have in my spice rack. It's been there for years, but so what? If you listen to those foodies who say you need to throw away all your herbs and spices after six months, or whatever, you'll be throwing away money, and goodness, it's just older goodness. Moby, come eat mozz and tomatoes with me! I'll be a vegan for you, babe!!! I can't use enough exclamation marks (or is it "points"?) when I write about him. I want to say I'm in love with him, it's simple, but surely it's just a crush. But then again, do crushes last this long? No, it's love. I listened to "Play" again. Is "18" on sale yet??? Anyway, yeah, god, wow, man, have I said how much I love "Play"? Have I? It really does something to me. Listen to it through headphones, listen to all the little sounds he put in there, try to figure it all out, sit and read the liner notes while you do, read Moby's essays on fundamentalism, veganism, on his own spirituality. He is such a good soul, so pure, so filled with love, so shy, so unassuming, so unpretentious, he's everything I want, I think. We may not have shared every experience, I haven't heard of half the bands he writes about in his journal. Ahhhhh, his journal. The unassuming, unpretentious, totally charming and delightful and engaging "Moby Updates" at www.moby.com. Have you read his journal? He's funny, he's smart as hell, he can turn a phrase, he's incredibly well read, informed, and he's funny, did I say that? He thinks he's a nerd, he thinks he can't talk to women, he's too shy, he thinks he's just this geeky, nerdy guy who makes music because he has to, because he LIVES to, and he wants us all to live in peace and harmony, but not in some new agey way, because he's more Punk than New Age. Listen to "Play" through a pair of headphones. Listen to "If Things Were Perfect", hear the paper rustling in the very beginning, the modified "scratching", listen to Moby's voice.... oh my god, he sounds so sexy: "It's so brutal with the cold sky... wrapped in cold, late at night... Come clean, there's no sun yet... I can't speak I can't hear, but I know I'm real.... There's no warm here anyway... The darkest light's before the dawn...." Unnnnnhhhhhhh. That's the sound I make when I listen to him. (that was a very crude rendering of his lyrics, btw) I have to turn it off. I can't listen to it any more right now. What does that mean? I know, I know, I'm weird, but I don't think I'm the only one. I posted a thread at his message boards once, "I think I'm in love with Moby", and I had all kinds of women telling me to get in line behind them. But I read him, I listen to him, I see him on "Senor Moby's House of Music", but he's still two dimensional, and I have this intense desire for him to be more than that. He wrote about how he met some people who'd won dinner with him in some radio contest, and he was afraid anyone would be disappointed with him in person, that maybe these people were. They wanted to talk issues, politics, activism, but he says he's just a geek, he's not into all that really. He writes about it, but it's not who he is, he's just a guy. Let out a huge sigh right here. I had my copy of "Play" at work, showed the liner notes to Riley and Lulu, those silly pictures of him jumping in mid air, standing on his head, his shirt coming open, the one of him in the street, in Manhattan, with his sweater on, and I started seriously lusting after him, feeling I wanted to run my fingers through that hair on his chest, that line of hair that starts at his bellybutton and goes down.... so dark. Or walk with him through Manhattan, take pictures, watch the dogs in the dog run, eat a Vegan gourmet meal, be silly, listen while he plays voice samples, or guitar, or keyboards, or whatever, in his studio. I was momentarily overcome. Riley said, "Oh, so he's your soulmate?", Yes, oh yes, he doesn't know it, he may never know it, and I have way too much competition to ever get close enough to let him know. I'm a wannabe groupie. Moby wrote one time in his journal that the way to meet a rock star is to make friends with the roadies at a show. That's one way anyway. So I'll get a ticket to Area:Two, I'll make friends, I'll get backstage, and then what? "Um, Hi, Mobe, it's me, I read your journal, I listen to your music, I write a journal too, can I come live with you?". How would that be? By the time I get there, to meeting him, to letting him know that I am clearly the one for him, that Aries and Virgo are excellent together, he will have already found his soulmate. No, wait, I'll be positive about this. I'm the one, as we were joking today, "I'm your Number One Fan", like what's her name in Stephen King's Misery! But I won't hobble his legs. Nor will I tie him up, well, only if he wants me to, but I won't torture him, not at all. I just want to be pals, buds, you know, and have sex with him, and then eat mozzarella and tomatoes with lots of extra virgin olive oil, salt, pepper, and any kind of herbs with him, doesn't have to be dill. Cost of the War in Iraq
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