Found a notebook from the bad old days
This will be long. Here's a sample:
"I've always hated writing in the beginning of notebooks, that pure first page looking up at you with the eyes of a frightened virgin. Begging you not to ruin it. I never can. Guess I'm too sympathetic. It totally destroys the symmetry of the thing, anyway- writing on the front page but the leaving back empty as Hestia's womb for the most part. But I digress... well, actually, technically this whole thing is a digression so... I wonder what the term is for a digression within a digression? Maybe I'll never know."
I want to cry. I came here to spend time alone with Josh, to finally relax, and instead I have been doomed to another night deep within the bowels of the ninth circle of geekdom. Is this selfish of me? I feel selfish. It's not fair of me to ask Josh to give up his past times... but, at the same time, I'm only asking for a few hours. Perhaps I'm wrong. Claudette's funeral is tomorrow. Hard to believe. I feel like the incarnation of dance has died. She truly was a dancer with every muscle, bone and each breath she drew; dance flowed from her naturally, gracefully. Not to deny she could be a right bitch, because she could- her mood alterations were something to be approached with much fear and trembling. There was just something about her.
Later
I am currently listening to my new favorite version of "All the pretty horses". Kenny Loggins? This makes me happy. Another thing making me happy is that I'm sitting on a warm heat vent, so my butt is nice and warm. Let's hear it for happily roasting rear!
01-?-03
Here I am at Millenium Gaming Store. Wow. Welcome to geek culture 101- they almost sound like they're speaking another language. The crowd consists, for the most part, of males ranging from 11-21 and though clean enough they retain a certain air of straggly carelessness that allows for untamed hair and unravelling sweater cuffs. One in particular keeps grabbing my attention- tall and very dirty blonde hair (not literally dirty), typical gamer physique; thin, awkward around the back of the neck and elbows. But he has such unique eyes. Their color is totally evasive, as well as their quality. I cannot place if they are muted, watchful, observant, vapid, catching, I don't know... I think perhaps engaging comes the closest. They grab your attention and then leave you trying to figure out why. This is becoming aggravating! What on earth is so remarkably engaging about this person? Wow. A kid just walked in with the most remarkable red hair- it is the greatest shock of red flamingness I have ever had the misfortune to witness. This next duelist who has sat down is gorgeous, but he is either deaf, mute or both. His handwriting is excellent! Apparently, in order to communicate with the other duelists he is using a note pad and writing to them.
Tis not for you, dark sea and sad,
I weep while heart is torn
but selfish, weary tears now fall
for feet that never tread the morn
To night time's ranks I am consigned
to never see the sun
to forever glimpse the journey's end
but never see it done
Speak now my love and softly,
softly raise your hand farewell
OK I'm tired of writing now. Haha. I'll write more later.
"I've always hated writing in the beginning of notebooks, that pure first page looking up at you with the eyes of a frightened virgin. Begging you not to ruin it. I never can. Guess I'm too sympathetic. It totally destroys the symmetry of the thing, anyway- writing on the front page but the leaving back empty as Hestia's womb for the most part. But I digress... well, actually, technically this whole thing is a digression so... I wonder what the term is for a digression within a digression? Maybe I'll never know."
I want to cry. I came here to spend time alone with Josh, to finally relax, and instead I have been doomed to another night deep within the bowels of the ninth circle of geekdom. Is this selfish of me? I feel selfish. It's not fair of me to ask Josh to give up his past times... but, at the same time, I'm only asking for a few hours. Perhaps I'm wrong. Claudette's funeral is tomorrow. Hard to believe. I feel like the incarnation of dance has died. She truly was a dancer with every muscle, bone and each breath she drew; dance flowed from her naturally, gracefully. Not to deny she could be a right bitch, because she could- her mood alterations were something to be approached with much fear and trembling. There was just something about her.
Later
I am currently listening to my new favorite version of "All the pretty horses". Kenny Loggins? This makes me happy. Another thing making me happy is that I'm sitting on a warm heat vent, so my butt is nice and warm. Let's hear it for happily roasting rear!
01-?-03
Here I am at Millenium Gaming Store. Wow. Welcome to geek culture 101- they almost sound like they're speaking another language. The crowd consists, for the most part, of males ranging from 11-21 and though clean enough they retain a certain air of straggly carelessness that allows for untamed hair and unravelling sweater cuffs. One in particular keeps grabbing my attention- tall and very dirty blonde hair (not literally dirty), typical gamer physique; thin, awkward around the back of the neck and elbows. But he has such unique eyes. Their color is totally evasive, as well as their quality. I cannot place if they are muted, watchful, observant, vapid, catching, I don't know... I think perhaps engaging comes the closest. They grab your attention and then leave you trying to figure out why. This is becoming aggravating! What on earth is so remarkably engaging about this person? Wow. A kid just walked in with the most remarkable red hair- it is the greatest shock of red flamingness I have ever had the misfortune to witness. This next duelist who has sat down is gorgeous, but he is either deaf, mute or both. His handwriting is excellent! Apparently, in order to communicate with the other duelists he is using a note pad and writing to them.
Tis not for you, dark sea and sad,
I weep while heart is torn
but selfish, weary tears now fall
for feet that never tread the morn
To night time's ranks I am consigned
to never see the sun
to forever glimpse the journey's end
but never see it done
Speak now my love and softly,
softly raise your hand farewell
OK I'm tired of writing now. Haha. I'll write more later.