it's 2:57 am, on March 01, 2002 - maudlin reminiscing.

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I went back to here because I often do that, and ended up on the quotes pages as usual. It suggested that, perhaps, I should do a journal entry. As it often does.

I bought "no strings attached" yesterday, along with the New Radicals. Am reading my own past journal entries and came across this:

My kisses? let'em tickle, I don't want a scar.

which I had to think about really a lot before I realized it was in reference to Brad Pitt and Ed Norton slash. Because, Fight Club. I love it.

In the infantile way my mind works, I keep going back to those few, those tragic few things that comfort me. In some way, I want to proclaim a day of mourning.

I remember grief, even if I had to dream it up in my subconscious to experience it. --that's something else, altogether, though, the trip to Baltimore and the things I learned. I could start at the beginning, but I don't even know what the beginning is anymore, and even if I did, I don't know what I have to say to whom.

Dreamed SRI two nights in a row there, I think. And some how, I ended up telling the whole SRI story to a roomful of people, and saying it out loud cheapened it, somehow. Other than that, I managed to be quiet. I tried hard. I didn't drink on purpose.

I actually own "no strings attached".

Also seen on the trip: the sun setting behind the Washington Monument. A real Dali. Urbanism. A lot of urbanism. There was less drinking than Toronto, and more people around. I think, it was more a trek into the idea of people, rather than a trek into the idea of what I was running away from.

Also, things were very pretty.

Once or twice, I found myself thinking about that dream, and wondering whether I ever explained it in this particular journal, or whether I just wrote that Lorna scene and squashed everything else. I still want to see St. Petersburg. Some trip. Some time.

I miss those poets, those gypsies. come visit, some time.

I want to ask if you liked the book, and yet, not, because if not, I can't do anything. I would feel a stupid girl.

Probably, I am a stupid girl.

Also, getting somewhat maudlin. I made the mistake of rereading journal entries, and so if I dream about anyone who's name may-or-may-not begin with D, I'm just sayin'. I might stab myself in the ear with something long and pointy.

Yeah, brain, that was a threat.

Al listed a, thing, where she defined some things that she wanted. It was an absolutely fascinating list. I was breathless, seeing it, excited to read it, yet feeling invasive just the same. You know how it goes.

You might be breathing on the glass walls but it still seems like voyeurism when you watch him jack off at night. Even if you can't stop.

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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