Los Angeles has been doing right by me, weather-wise, these last few days. It's so nice to go for a late afternoon run and see a sky that's pink with sunset, rather than the all too often present smear of blue that passes for the Heavens Above out here.

See, LA? You're trying too hard. It's nice when you let the clouds win once in a while.

Speaking of the running, that's going quite well, thank you. It's starting to have some noticeable results, except for one little area: the gut. Some headway is, I think, being made in the man vs. manpouch area, but goddamn if it isn't slow going. My bastard tummy will not go quietly.

It's not my fault, really. Years ago, I was forced to enter into a binding contract with the Ben & Jerry's corporation whereby I am legally required to buy Chubby Hubby ice cream everytime it's on sale for two for $5. Yes, I was young and didn't know what I was doing, there's been a legal defense fund set up for me, Al Sharpton's involved, and yet...I can't do anything about this.

It's just the way it is.

So, for the past few weeks, I've been working my way through Heather's archives. She nobly refused to do any work at her job for two straight days and read me straight through, so I figure that while she's off in Europe, enduring the misery of international adventure, cheap beer, and villas in Tuscany, I'll read her slowly, here and there. I've made it into a bit of a time-release experience, so it's like she isn't really gone at all.

I haven't heard from her via the email in nearly a week now. That's perfect, of course, because her last message to me said something like "Hey, I'm about to get on a train and go down to Italy and guess what I heard? People get on the trains while you're sleeping at night and use chloroform to knock you unconscious and mug you! Alright, well, see ya!"

I've chosen to believe that she's having a really good time with her friends in Tuscany and doesn't want to be the geek who sneaks off to check her email.

So, I'm almost done with her diary. One of her more recent entries had her indulging in the ol' D'Land standby, quizzes. It was one of those quizzes with hard hitting, insightful questions, like "Do you believe in suicide? Or killing people?" You know, real thinkers. But there was one question that made me think a bit. It was "How many times have you been in love?"

Now, I'm not quite sure why this particular question has chosen to bounce around my brain and make me look back on the History of Bill, but it has, and the entry fodder around here has been hard to come by lately, so I'm running with it.

Ive been in love for sure twice. I was in love with Sally, natch, and I was in love with the girl I was dating before Sally, Betty, who makes a few brief appearances in the beginning of FadeIn then fades out for a while.

I thought, when I was 18, that I may have been in love, but looking back, I think I was just in a really good mood.

Back then, I thought that one could define love by the amount of goofy grinning and jumping around one was doing, but I later discarded that theory when I learned I could produce the same results with a lot of coffee and loud, good music.

I was dating her. It was great. I was a freshman in college, she was a sophomore. It was before I moved into the dorms, so I was still living at home, and she had an incredible apartment just around the corner from the theatre school. It wasn't long before my toothbrush and deodorant were hanging out on her bathroom sink.

Then, we broke up. And I was very, very sad. Then, a few weeks later, I wasn't.

True story.

A couple of months ago, I remembered that she was living out here now, and I decided to give her and her musician boyfriend a call, digging out the matchbook on which she had written their number. I was curious as to how she was doing, and I was hoping she might have a job lead. I called, and the boyfriend told me that they were no more. He gave me her new number.

I called and left a message. No reply. A week later, I tried again. Nothing. I'm fairly certain I didn't try a third time, but I know I considered it. I wrote it off. She just went through a breakup with a guy with whom she was living, and she probably had her reasons.

It'll be interesting to see if I ever run into her.

I'd love to join her in making fun of her accordion playing ex-boyfriend.

Yes. So. I want you all to pray to whatever deity you dig on, whether He be supernatural or TiVo in nature, because there looks like there may be a new front opening in my personal war against unemployment. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, and I don't want to jinx it by talking about it too much, but let's send some good thoughts my way, you bastards.