Wrote a letter I'm not sure I'll send.

It's a fan-letter to Pete Townshend. I managed to keep it fairly sane, with a minimum amount of pointless fangirling. Still kept it pleasant and encouraging.

But I'd only send it if I had the chance to do it without Mom or Dad or someone seeing. I'm known for avoiding things like this--I'm famous for steering clear of crushes and other such things. But I've got a massive fangirlish crush on him. I don't ever think I'll even meet him, but I'd like to send him the letter anyway. Which would give everybody in my family license to mock me for the rest of our natural days, as well as some of the unnatural ones. I'm known for being independent, tough, all that.

So, in some respects, I feel like I can identify with Pete in several of his songs. They're so universal, but they're also intensely personal. That's why I love his music, with and without the Who. It's like magic, channeled through a guitar and microphone, conducted with strange dances and gestures. No... it IS magic. That's what it is.

I might revise the letter a bit before attempting to send it off. Wonder if I'll request an autograph... I'll have to try to print off a picture of him, even though I'm sending some I drew of him (and "the Ether Man", who just so HAPPENS to be a silhouette with a large nose in my interpretations :P).

I feel so silly for being like this over an old stranger that I'll never be less than a hundred yards away from. I'm usually known for chuckling at people like this and reminding them of harsh reality. But now I'm one of them. It's kind of odd. I like the warm fuzzies I get when I hear the Who or solo-Pete coming on the radio--it's like early Christmas for me. So easily amused.

Maybe I will send it after all. Have to get some international stamps, though, according to my Invisible Internet Friend from Belgium. Doubt he'll read it at all--he probably pays a clerk to forge his handwriting on a form letter or something--but on the off chance he does, I'd like him to know how important and enchanting his lyrics are. I'm sure he knows, though. I'm sure he knows. But it bears repeating. Doesn't it?

Don't think it's that long a walk from here to the post office.