dearest heart, today, after many weeks of forgetting, i finally joined the library. I am so pleased and excited that I've decided to spend my Friday evening there. Please do not lament you fail to see me for the next few hours, for it is there, amongst the tomes of knowledge that I wander. Wish me well, fair heart, and know that although I love you - I love the library more. your dearest Love, michelle.

I'm not sure you understand about last night. Eddie Izzard has a way about him. Well yes of course being a transvestite is a way but it wasn't that, in fact, it was never that. The thing is, I wanted Eddie to like me. I wanted to be his friend. I wanted him to pick me from all the others because I was his favourite. Now, how the hell did he *do* that from all the way down there on the stage? I wanted to meet him afterwards for a drink and say "great show, Ed, that one about the greyhounds slighed me, man." I wanted him to know I thought he looked beautiful and that he had great legs. I wanted to write my name with his surname on my pencil case and dot the i's with hearts - that's a special superpower if ever I saw one. Eddie Izzard takes you gently in his cupped hands, and tickles you under your chin and kanoodles you along with good humour and good observation and with unabiding confidence and you feel safe and you feel great affection and you want him to LIKE you. That, Eddie, is the best superhero power *ever*. Thanks for a great night - especially the parts where I was doubled-over and screaming with laughter, slapping my knee and scaring the living daylights out of that poor sod in front of me.

Last night I went to see Eddie Izzard. His new show is called "SEXIE" but it might as well have been called "A Lovely Evening With Eddie". Not that I'm bagging it - it was great - I laughed and loved the whole evening. What I mean to say is, he exhibits such a natural fidgetty presence, he could well have been in your lounge having been invited over for a dinner party. Funny, intelligent, chatty loosely connected topic from a really quick-witted friend who brought two bottles of red wine. I especially (and they're not going to be funny to you but they make me smile) liked his "notes to self" you've lost them all now, and must do more research and my personal favourite That's a completely true story - except for the lies. And then I did some stuff and then I went home to bed. I dreamed Marshall dreams all night. I dreamed it was Friday, and he said I had to make "25,000 images by Monday" I dreamed I stormed into his office saying this was "so unfair" and impossible, and he just said "we have to do what we can do". Funny, now, thinking about the "we" part of that - when he said "we" he meant me. My ferry broke down this morning. I was dozing and woke as the engine slowed and I blinked awake knowing we must be near the wharf and nearly time to disembark. As I blinked and focussed, I realised how far away from the Ferry Wharf was. We were, in fact, still in the middle of the Harbour. I realised, as my fellow passengers did, that we'd broken down and were drifting. The sounds of the engine trying to engage into a forward motion continued for quite sometime. I heard a distinctly New Zealand voice on the radio telephone on the bridge of the ferry say "I heard you fullas've broken down". After a while, cellphones began to ring around the cabin with people wondering where the "ferry people" had got to. We limped towards the wharf, trying to avoid the Devonport ferry and other craft making it to an "emergency disembarkment" at the Hilton because we just couldn't make it to the normal Ferry Landing. Marshall "what are you procrastinating about now?" Michelle "I'm not procrastinating, I'm working!" Marshall "Jeeze! caught you at a bad time!" Get your hand the hell off my ovaries!