The bus groaned up Grapevine pass and then we were coming down into the great sprawls of light. Without coming to any particular agreement we began holding hands, and in the same way it was mutely and beautifully and purely decided that when I got my hotel room in LA she would be beside me. I ached all over for her; I leaned my head in her beautiful hair. Her little shoulders drove me mad; I hugged her and hugged her. And she loved it.

"I love love," she said, closing her eyes. I promised her beautiful love. I gloated over her. Our stories were told; we subsided into silence and sweet anticipatory thoughts. It was as simple as that.

� from On The Road by Jack Kerouac

On The Road had its "love" stories, and plenty of them, but I think Tristessa and Maggie Cassidy were Kerouac's best love stories. I've got Kerouac on my mind this Valentine's Day � yes, it's past the midnight hour, into February 15 (just days from Presidents' Day!), but I've yet to go to bed, so it's still Valentine's Day for me, though I had no reason to observe it this year. Anyway, I just found out that a professor of mine from Notre Dame has finished his book about Kerouac, which he was writing while I was taking his class on Kerouac and the Beats. My sister picked it up and is going to have him sign it for me and send it out, so I can't wait for that.

One year in college � sophomore year � I went out to dinner with Bryan and five of our single female friends. When I got back to my dorm room, the phone was ringing, and it was a girl I didn't know, calling to tell me she liked the column I'd written in the campus paper. She called earlier, but I wasn't home, and she didn't feel like leaving a message. We talked for a while; it was one of the more pleasant, interesting experiences I've ever had. I don't know, I can't really describe it better.

Funny � at a loss for words.

The only other Valentine's Day I can remember was in high school. Senior year, I had been seeing Heather for a year and a half, and my high school had the week off. I went and bought 12 different cards � some funny, some sexy, some sweet � bought a dozen roses, and threw in several little gifts here and there. Her father worked from home, so I coordinated with him a few days beforehand, as well as with a friend of ours who went to school with Heather. Then:

� I drove to Heather's high school, waited for the classes to change, and went inside to meet Mandy at Heather's locker. There, I placed a card, a rose, and a note which explained that she had to find the other 11 roses.
� I went out to Heather's car, unlocked it with the spare set of keys her father had given me for this mission, and put another rose and card on the seat, and a compilation tape in the tape deck.
� Went back to Heather's house and scattered the remaining 10 roses, cards and various gifts around the house: one in the kitchen that she'd see when she walked in, one in the dining room, one in the living room we never sat in, one in the TV room we hung out in often, one in the back den we made out in all the time, four in places I can't remember now, and one in her bedroom � which I had to do quickly and quietly, because her father didn't know I knew which bedroom was hers. But I did (oh yeah). In each card, I wrote some silly poem or message or note.

That was basically it. That afternoon, I got a phone call from a very overwhelmed and impressed girlfriend, and after she paid for dinner that night, I think I received my present.

This year I went with my parents and a friend to the Notre Dame-Rutgers men's basketball game, which was a fine way to spend the day � the Irish killed them, 81-57 or something. Rutgers led 1-0 before Notre Dame took the lead for good. The Irish led 18-15 with 12 minutes to go in the first half, then went up 21-15 and the lead never got below six points again. Ah, I loved it.

And what happened? Was their computer stolen; did they lose interest? Did some horrendous and drastic life-altering event incapacitate them? (Sorry for the severity of that one, but it did cross my mind.) Is there a D-Land buddy system in which at least one other diarist knows your true identity and can oversee the estate of your diary should something happen?

At some point, I'll just have to move them off the list.

I think it would be cool to have subscribers � I'm talking here of a Notify List � but I think I'd be disappointed, maybe offended, if no one signed up. Maybe a site meter would be cool too, but the same dilemma arises there. I wouldn't want the total to increase primarily from every time I click "Your Diary" from the members area.

Besides, I've said I started this diary for myself, and I intend to keep it that way, to not be swayed or inhibited by the thought of "my readers." I'm not sure how many I have, anyway. My point is, I feel if I got a site meter, that would amount to selling out, in a way, and I don't want to go there.

But I'm definitly moving in that direction. I can feel it.