If I float on, baby, would you understand?

7/30/04
5 am. Just got home. Pat left at 2 am after pizza, Congo, and a drive-by ice creaming of some sucker's lawn. I couldn't sleep, so I walked to a dimly lit patch of grass beside the railroad tracks and layed down to watch the sky. I saw three shooting stars and what I think was a sattellite. Cigar smoke trickled from my mouth to cloud the air above me. My body pulsed into the ground, leaving a heartbeat footprint. After a good hour or so, I started home, and ended up sitting on a small hill above the highway. I watched countless trucks drive by as the sky slowly got lighter. I tried to think. About what the hell I was doing up. About why I craved someone to share words with. About who I was.

If you want it to be perfectly clear, whisper it straight to my ear/ From there, your words will flow down my spine to take root in my marrow, invade my blood line/ The sky becomes connect-the-dots, we'll make patterns, feel textures, get lost in thoughts/ Can you make room for me here? Can I stay? Can I feel like I belong, or will I get in your way?/ Are you looking for life? Can you find my vital signs? I want to sleep before the light, I can show you what it's like. Are you looking for life? Can you find my vital signs?/ She's happy, does that make you want to break her heart?

7/13/04

"You are the poster child for emo."
"Yeah. This is the house that emo built."

Pat, Sara, and Andrew came over and discussed, apparantly, my social status. They brought Lucky and Sleeman's. Andrew waxed intellectual on the many facets of 'cock rock'.
"Here's Pat's theory: if it's not cock rock, it's gay."
We spoke of indie bands and 80's culture. I told them about my dream. The one that scared me awake.
"Yeah, so I told him 'fuck you'. Right to his face. I was so mad, it woke me up."
Pat offered brief psychoanalyses of each of us. Andrew denied being 'picked apart'. Apparantly he was sick of being told things he already knew. I asked him what he was afraid of.
"Ok. Let me get this straight, Pat. Me in a nutshell. I attract guys that are emotionally weaker than me, and I have a huge sleeping problem? Oh, and I talk too much when I drink. Right."
We played Rush, and Pat and I simultaneously burst out with, "Of salesmen!"
"Oh, Jason would be so proud."
The night wore on. We talked too much. Eventually, everyone got tired and went home. I tried to sleep, but ended up staring at the walls. At 2:30, I finally drifted off, only to awaken every twenty minutes or so before getting out of bed for work at 4:40.












"How I miss your ranting....do you miss my all-time lows?"
-Metric