Random thoughts I typed yesterday but only post today
Waiting for my gym ride, hungry, I smell like toasted bread after spending the night at Deborah's.
I got a haircut yesterday, the lady said my hair is thinning, there's nothing I can do about it but see it go. I shrugged. I've succumbed to my body's rebellion. We never really got along.
It's been, what, eight, nine, ten months since the last time I did it, but it happened again earlier today: I cried a bit. It was an e-mail from Fel, who's still in Cambodia. I thought of the Cuban burgers and milkshakes we drank together late at night, and her laugh, and the pranks we played on each other, and how she calls me "carino" and other Spanish endearments. I missed her, and my hand couldn't rush to my eyes fast enough to make the tear stop. They were only a few. But they still came. I miss her. And I miss Brian, still in Mongolia, and Ryan, in Samoa. They're all in Peace Corps, helping others. They're all tired and want to come back. I want them back, too.
I'd take Texas' baking heat over Florida's humidity any day.
I miss my once best friend. I hope he misses me too. But doubt is stronger in me than hope.
I think John Gardner's "Grendel" is the best existential novel ever written. Better than "The Stranger," which I never liked. I think my soul mate will be the person who gets it when I tell them I'm feeling exceptionally grendelian.
My pyromaniac phase hasn't passed. For the last couple weeks, I've been obsessed with seeing things burn. I walk under the shadows of strange buildings that cower by the shoreline, and I close my eyes and picture what it'd be like to see it all licked by one perpetual flame, to see the concrete slabs and metal girders pulsating golden heat. I want to bask in flaming inundations, to hear the roar of starving blazes sating themselves on the rubble of vast cities. I want to see it all burn.
I also want a hamster, or a little turtle.
I had a dream a friend and I teamed up to start a detective agency. Our first case was to find the Queen of Englad, who had been kidnapped by people who looked like castle towers. It was a hard mission, but we got the job done. Her Majesty was pleased, but she didn't say it. She didn't have to. We could tell.
I'll write about Austin and New York some other day, which is what I've been saying since I visited Austin and New York.
I got a haircut yesterday, the lady said my hair is thinning, there's nothing I can do about it but see it go. I shrugged. I've succumbed to my body's rebellion. We never really got along.
It's been, what, eight, nine, ten months since the last time I did it, but it happened again earlier today: I cried a bit. It was an e-mail from Fel, who's still in Cambodia. I thought of the Cuban burgers and milkshakes we drank together late at night, and her laugh, and the pranks we played on each other, and how she calls me "carino" and other Spanish endearments. I missed her, and my hand couldn't rush to my eyes fast enough to make the tear stop. They were only a few. But they still came. I miss her. And I miss Brian, still in Mongolia, and Ryan, in Samoa. They're all in Peace Corps, helping others. They're all tired and want to come back. I want them back, too.
I'd take Texas' baking heat over Florida's humidity any day.
I miss my once best friend. I hope he misses me too. But doubt is stronger in me than hope.
I think John Gardner's "Grendel" is the best existential novel ever written. Better than "The Stranger," which I never liked. I think my soul mate will be the person who gets it when I tell them I'm feeling exceptionally grendelian.
My pyromaniac phase hasn't passed. For the last couple weeks, I've been obsessed with seeing things burn. I walk under the shadows of strange buildings that cower by the shoreline, and I close my eyes and picture what it'd be like to see it all licked by one perpetual flame, to see the concrete slabs and metal girders pulsating golden heat. I want to bask in flaming inundations, to hear the roar of starving blazes sating themselves on the rubble of vast cities. I want to see it all burn.
I also want a hamster, or a little turtle.
I had a dream a friend and I teamed up to start a detective agency. Our first case was to find the Queen of Englad, who had been kidnapped by people who looked like castle towers. It was a hard mission, but we got the job done. Her Majesty was pleased, but she didn't say it. She didn't have to. We could tell.
I'll write about Austin and New York some other day, which is what I've been saying since I visited Austin and New York.