Marc Maron is stalking me.

I am sure our lives are meant to collide. I know it.

The first time I saw you was at the 23rd street uptown platform waiting for a train. You were all in a suit and stuff, like you were going to a show or a job interview or some thing random... and I walked by you, and was like... hmmm.... wait, who is that? Is that? Huh? that's not Marc Maron... is it? whoa, yeah, that's Marc Maron. What the hell is he doing on my train? That was like, at least 6 months, if not a year ago... when you had the short hair.

Then I saw you like, 2 months ago (longer hair now), walking down Steinway Street toward 30th avenue... at least, that's where I was coming from. I live in Astoria. On 30th and 41st. And there was some like, massive street fair, like there always is on Steinway, and you were wearing a blue Air America tshirt and shorts and working your way, as I was, through big butts pushing strollers. I saw you and smiled really big and you smiled back. and I was like, "what the hell is Marc Maron doing in Astoria?" I assumed it was some kind of "man on the street" type action, and you were getting some outer-borough flavor. I mentioned this to one of my friends, and they were like... "I think marc maron lives in Astoria." And i was like... wait, first of all, how would you know that? BACK OFF! Secondly, why the fuck would Marc Maron live in Astoria? That just makes me like Astoria even more than I already do. I mean, I dog on Astoria all the time, because there is just so much retarded fodder there... Stores called "Temptation... for KIDS!" and stickers on the door of the liquor store that read "Kids, No hope in DOPE!" I think for a writer or comedian, it's so perfect. You always have something to hate on.

Then I saw you like two weeks ago... at least the back of you... as you were walking down 5th Avenue. I work at 5th Ave. and 21st Street. My co-worker and I were outside smoking and caught you with your backpack and shorts on trucking down to an office of some sort (we assumed) on 5th. My friend was like... "holy crap, that's Marc Maron. I remember him from that show on VH1..." and then we gushed a bit over your virtues and walked down the block a bit, to see if we could see where you went to... just in case you had gone into the Bath and Body Works to stock up on your tea tree oil or something... we were going to find out. Yeah, we made it to like, the Body Shop and then gave up.

And freakin' then, I saw you Monday, as I was walking to the NYSC on 30th and 38th, and you were walking past Duane Reade. and it took me only a second this time, and i was like, "that's Marc Maron isn't it. I know it. What the fuck? Marc Maron is stalking me!" and then I was going to turn right there and say something to you, but I am girl, so I second-guessed myself a moment too long (my first thought was "I'm in my gym clothes... I can't just go talking to some famous comedian. He's probably on his way somewhere, like Duane Reade and doesn't want to be bothered while he purchases Vapo Rub," but then i decided to look to see where you went, and then, again, you completely evaporated.

You are good at that evaporating thing. Like you're some kind of social critiquing soluble fluid or something. Or a gnome. A gnome who is following me for some reason. Perhaps it is because you know that you look like this guy that I hooked up with and totally fell for over the summer, and you are just trying to rub it in that I still think about him a lot, even though I was supposed to be mature and detatched. Perhaps it is because you are trying to remind me of my comedic and performance values, and are highlighting my need for a mentor, and many, many guideposts. Perhaps you are trying to tell me, "Hey, I live in Astoria, and I sure would love it if you would cat-sit for me, and actually live in my probably swank apartment while my wife and I are being bicoastal in Los Angeles, and that way you would be able to live alone, in the neighborhood you like, for really cheap, and you wouldn't have to worry about your annoying, nosy Greek landlord getting pissed everytime you make a creak in the floorboards." I hope it is the latter, Marc Maron. Cause that would really rock. And if that's the case, you don't have to be so shy about it. Next time you see me, as you are following me on the N train, or on the tredmill next to me at the gym, or looking through my window or something, just be like... "Hey, what up Des? Want to get some cheesecake at Galaxy Cafe and sublet my apartment?" And I'll be sure to get the restraining order removed.