February 21, 2002 | 6:56 PM

This is somewhat in response to an email I received today from someone I really respect on diaryland, who asked me a question about THE SAGA.

There has been a great deal of ugliness in THE SAGA concerning my illustrious rocky romance, the one that still continues to this day and has gone on for six years. Before I finish writing THE SAGA, there will be a great deal more ugliness. I am not unaware of certain conclusions people may draw, and I fully understand why those conclusions would be drawn.

OK OK. I�m explaining myself to death. Enough with the exposition.

This is what I want to say.

Sometimes John talks to me while I sleep. And I wake up hearing him say, �You are the most beautiful girlfriend in the whole world. Nobody is more beautiful than you.�

And when I sleep he always holds me close and rubs my back and strokes my hair.

Sometimes I watch him while he is sleeping. I love seeing that shock of red hair against the blue pillowcase, and I think to myself that I have never seen anyone more enchanted and enchanting in my entire life. I put my arms around him and listen to him breathe and feel his heart beat against my cheek.

John gives me strange little names. Like Tiny Pony. And My Little Babes. And Poopy Bumscale (yes�I actually wrote Poopy Bumscale) that are silly and slightly ironic but are also incredibly sweet.

John learned how to make steak recently and now he buys steak almost every week and he comes home and cooks me dinner. He wants me to watch him cook to make sure he�s not fucking it up. It�s so cute.

John threw me a surprise birthday party two years in a row. Both times I had no clue. Both times he gave me an erotic cake. Both times he invited all my friends. Both times he didn�t care that I tongue kissed a couple girls.

John doesn�t mind that I like to kiss girls.

John has written two songs about me.

John lets me be a star when we�re around other people.

John always cleans up my clothes when I throw them all over the floor. And he only bitches about it in his diary.

John cried when Burl Ives found out he had cancer in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof but he pretended he just had the sniffles.

John plays wiffle ball with me in the park.

John loves to go to the children�s museum and to the aquarium.

John tolerates my temper tantrums, my mood swings, and my capricious nature. He never ever holds a grudge or brings up things from the past.

John loves Donald Sutherland as much as I do.

John loves books. He loves music. He voted for Ralph Nader.

One time John and I walked past a pro-life protest. It was shortly after I had an abortion. One of the pro-life people said something nasty to me and John spit in his face. Then he took me to McDonalds and spent the rest of the day watching sappy movies with me.

John and I finish each other�s sentences. We read each other�s expressions. I can be hnoest enough with him that he can read my diary and know all of the thoughts I have about him and he accepts me feelings completely. He allows me to feel the way I feel.

When sex is good, it�s really really REALLY good.

John has written some of the funniest most poignant short fiction I have ever read.

John is one of the smartest people I have ever met. He is intelligent and talented enough to do anything he could possibly want to do in this world.

I love John.

I love him.

I really and truly and honestly love him.

People can love each other and still be complete fucking bastards. People can love each other and be horribly un-evolved and make bad decisions and hurt each other and just royally fucking fuck up. Especially when they are very very young.

I am going to close this entry by paraphrasing something I wrote to someone wonderful earlier today:

This saga that I am writing does not have an ending yet. I still don�t know how the third act is going to play out. And I think that I am hoping that like any good story, one or some of the main characters will have an epiphany�a life changing realization that the whole story is building towards. And I feel like maybe by structuring the SAGA along this arc, I am metaphysically nudging this revelation into actualization.

On the other hand, there could be a tragic end. Happens all the time in these kinds of stories.

The point is, I don�t know. And I haven�t given up. I haven�t lost faith and I�m just as curious as you are to find out what the hell happens.

Note to self-- Am thinking about deleting whiny obnoxious entries from December that make me cringe when I re-read them. Was that me just a couple months ago. [bites finger]