You know, I surpise myself with my writing. It sounds pretentious, but every now and then I look back and go "Oh! Hey, that wasn't too bad."

I should write more. For now, I'm going to post a couple things (old) and then new.
--
I awoke in bed to moonlight, and I saw your profile illuminated. I reached out to touch your skin, but felt only sheets damp with sweat.
--

So, tomorrow I will do something that will make me a huge, huge hypocrite. Something I swore I would never do.

But...

...thoughts of it and her have loosened me up. I haven't felt like this in a long time. Which makes me feel like a terrible person, but...oh well. I won't ask for forgiveness. But I'll ask for understanding.

And I will understand that you don't.

Dusting this off for a small bit of pacing.

Things happen. And now I'm in the spot you were in 3 years ago.

And everything is clear in how it works and how it can feel innocent and needed at the time.

Retroactively apologizing for you, maybe not.

Maybe this is how things are.

Maybe I need to make personal life less concrete, and embrace things and maybe stop trying to make everyone else happy and protect everyone and just be for myself.

I don't regret the decision.

Maybe I will later.

But for now, it helped me breathe.

one two three four five six seven one two three four five six seven

listening to rachel's' (how do I make something possessive that already IS possessive? damn you pretentious indie rockers!) "a french galleasse." It's in 7/4. or alternating measures of 3/4 and 4/4. mmmmm.

up late late late late. but I napped earlier today 7-9pm so that isn't that unexpecvted one would suppse. but I did get just 3 hours of fitful sleep the night before.

also: this post is inebriated. much rum to be had. so ignore typos and I'm too lazy to capitalize a lot of things. so there.

tried to take hot bath. hot bath and rum and radiohead. so maudlin! so full of ennui! so trite! but I had to get out of the bath. too hot. sweating. wanted to fall asleep there, but the heat made thoughts evaporate and bubble up, bouyant vessels of thought keeping me from slipping under.
fuckers.

contemplating more rum. still have fingers in feeling (typo left because I found it funny). but no. no more. 3 is good for now tonight!

strikethrough. gotta love it.

we've now moved on. rachel's' (until someone corrects me, that's what I'm doing... s') kentucky nocturne. more 3/4 goodness. maybe 6/4. meh. either way. something like that. enough to give it that odd pace that meter that feeling of movement. the simplest melody in 3/4 moves more than the most complex opus in 4/4. it just does.

another thing that drove me out of tub was want to write. so I am. here. been a long time since I've rambled. so I am. here.

(one two three one two three)

why do I have no insomniac friends here? want coffee. eggs. company.
books only go so far, you know. Pages flip. There's never any permanence to them, you see.

Always changing on you. JUST HOLD STILL!

But then they become boring, stale, flat. They're the can of coke you threw out the next morning.

Don't even have the decency to be cracker crumbs in bed. they're flat-out wasted crackers. At least the crumbs have the benefit of being annoying. stale crackers are just waste. they serve no purpose.

but CRUMBS!

Ah, crumbs.

They spur you to action! strip bed! wash sheets! MOVE, DAMN IT!

Much more healthy for you than stale crackers. Who would have thought, right?

See? this is good. creativity, as odd as it may be. I feel so stale and worthless as of late. a cracker. just throw me away. don't even have the gumption to be annoying to spur people into moving.

see, now I'm just moping. that's not the intent behind this.

(rachel's' "honeysuckle suite" now. spinnet, anyone? I want a spinnet. maybe next year. if I have my own place. nice decoration. because I mean seriously. who owns a SPINNET!? also in an odd meter, by the way)

want to go outside. walk for a while chainsmoke.

still may, I wouldn't rule it out for the evening. or morning now, I suppose. I wonder if I stay up long enough, someone will get breakfast with me.

(rachel's' water from the same source, now)

should anyone still be reading and is worried abut me, don't. I do this every now and then. pressure valve, you see.

garbage run to throw out the stale crackers.

either all the rum finally hit me or I finally just relaxed since this afternoon.

lips are numb. I'm going with rum.

bought a bunch of clothes today, for what that's worth. hadn't done that in a while.

also note, water from the same source is in 3/4 or 6/4, too. yum.

now les savy fav - we'll make a love of you.

have we got love enough to go around? why don't you get a piece and pass it down. even
100,000,000 years from now the love we make will still be putting out.

now lovers - i believe in an outer space

finding an address for someone, rummaged around on hard drive, dug up ghosts. fraction of a poem, from...who knows when. sometime in 2003. before september.

If my tongue would move
as fast as my head wants I
would fracture my teeth.

jesus going through songs too fast.

mark kozelek - around and around. and if I do say so myself

I'mnotthatbadofasinger.

still I love to see the sun go down and the world go round.

speaking of which, sun should be up soon. guessing it will rise within 15 minutes.

I'm going to guess....5:45.

Whoa. 7:05 a.m. I was way, way off.

frausdots - dead wrong. the sleepy jackson meets interpol is EXACTLY what they sound like.

ah, fuck it. I need sleep. goodnight.

one two three four
on two three four
on two, thee four
on to, thee four
on to, the flour
on to, the floor
o no the floor
o no he floor
o no he flow
no he flew
o he flew
away

dust

Two years, two years and there are ghosts everywhere. In honor of the occassion I'm listening to South. You know which album. I'm sitting in the same black chair. But this is a new desk, new computer, new room you have never seen and probably never will see.

You seem to have made it clear you never want to initiate contact with me. Whether or not you think it's for the best...I don't know your reasoning.

I know you'd probably respond to me if I talked to you. But I seemed to be wearing your patience thin. But what did you expect?

What did I expect.

It's cold in here. And I really should be in bed. But I'm not done moping.

Blogger sure has changed since the last time I was in here. I wonder what yours looks like now. I wonder where you are now. I still try like I did try (and I think I did) to trust you but it ate me alive. I wasn't the most secure person in the world but when you were there I Was fine...at elast, for the msot part.

Then things shifted and I sensed them and you denied it repeatedly. Then you got mad at me for it. You watched it hurt me. You watched me shake in pain and frustration and fear of my paranoia -- when it wasn't paranoia at all.

It was you.

Do you ever look at this thing? Can you?

You removed me after the letter in January.

I'm surprised I stayed on there that long.

What do you think of me now? Do you regret this? If you could take something back, what would it be?

The cheating on me, or the whole beginning we had in the first place?

I know
I know
I know
I know
I know I know I know I know.

You suck at follow through.

I just hate the fact

everything for

months now

has been

empty.

it's not like anyone checks this thing anymore. even I forget its existence. my life is nothing but work school and blood and nightmares at this point. like you fucking care.

the passion?