I'm a dreamer. The type of dreamer described so vividly by Dostoyevsky. The kind of dreamer that spends too much time in his own head, until he creates a fictional world that to him is far more pleasent than his rude reality.

You must understand what love is to someone like me. It's fractional, transient... but what makes this fractional love different is that the object of my love is fictional, like most everything I dream up. I fall madly in love with a different woman almost every day... sometimes two in the same day, and for about five minutes she is the only thing my world knows.

I know how I sound. more than a little crazy? Perhaps I would do well to explain that these women, these creations of my imagination, do exist in the flesh, but only the image, the body, the physical matter that makes her a part of this universe. I create the rest in my mind, her history, her personality, her hobbies and intrests, whether she likes dogs or listens to the Beatles. She's alway idealized, always perfect, and of course, always madly in love with me.

I never know what these girls are really like. I usually don't even know their names, but thats not important because I can give them a name in my world, just like I can give them a love for folk music.

It's almost scary how many women in my world have a love for folk music.

Like I said, I'll love her for five minutes, but after that she's old news. Even dreamers have to move on.

I have to tell you though, what happens when I can't move on. This has happened only once, with a girl I had dubbed Caroline.

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