I hate to say it, but you're so much more endearing with the sound turned off...

It's a wierd night tonight. The wind is groaning and shaking the house. It's unnaturally warm for eight pm. I just got back from New Guy's. He seemed.... detached tonight. There sometimes, and then not. I was supposed to hang out with Other Guy after work today, but he bailed out on me. Work was fine. I unpacked enough boxes to never want to fold an item of clothing ever again. This young guy, who I think is named Jeff, came up to me and said, "Do you know who Jason likes?", to which I answered, "Uh... himself?" I thought it was quite a witty thing to say.

I don't want to start wanting any more than what I have. I won't do that to myself. I won't get disappointed again. Things are fine the way they are. I try to convince myself of that.

I am tired. Not just body tired. This is like soul tired. I think it's the weather. The heat was totally overwhelming when I left out his back door. I stared at the lake for a few minutes before saying goodbye. One night I'll show up at his house and we can just sit on the end of the dock and not talk about what we want to talk about. I haven't quite figured him out yet, and that bothers me. I like to have everything figured out. I was unpacking some jeans today and had to stop because the wierdest thought came to me. I would love to follow a pair of jeans from the very start of its birth. From the plant that grows the fiber, to the hands that sew its pieces together, to the lonely truck driver that takes it farther than I've ever been, then to me, then to the consumer. It's depressing to think that an item of clothing has more excitement woven into it than some people's lives do. You know what I want right now? Thunder and lightening. A huge, powerful, electrical storm, where the rain is lukewarm on your skin and the air is thick and ominous. How strange that an inanimate, invisible object such as air, can have such presence.

I need someone who can sit and talk about things I never talk about to anyone. Someone who starts the real part of their day when the day should rightfully be ending. Someone who will walk in the middle of a hot summer night and tell me what happens when you die. A human potion to feed whatever it is inside me that pines for nourishment. Someone who can lay for hours, not say a word, but share the most fullfilling conversation one can ever dream of.

It's a wierd night tonight.






"Today I walk. There's nothing here left for me but empty promises and the thought of all the things I'm never getting back."
-Incubus