it's 5:48 am, on April 10, 2002 - romance and rob.
~
Winamp is telling me, "it's 3am, I must be lonely." Actually, Rob Thomas is telling me this, but winamp is playing it.
I have had half an entry typed out, for the last few days, about all the romantic lines I've heard in the last little while. It came out of a conversation Mel and I had, about how romance for us isn't like, flowers and candy, it's all, different. And stuff. The conversation was a while ago, so I don't remember all the things we did find romantic.
I did start a list of things, however. One of them is this line: "I'll translate you for you."
It's Justin, probably, talking to Chris, after Chris says, "I don't understand me." So Justin says, "I'll translate you for you," and then laughs, and adds, "That's what I'm here for."
Just. I. Yeah. We decided that was romantic.
Also, Marla saying, "you're the worst thing that's ever happened to me" in Fight Club. I've always found that terribly romantic. Terrible, and romantic, even. And I was having a conversation in chat, and the topic of a recent story I'd written came up. And I realized something about it, and someone else said, "I'd just assumed," and I replied, "well, yeah, but you know me."
Mel said it was one of the more romantic things she'd heard in a while. I said, yes, probably. It felt good. Weird, thinking like that, because, yes, but also not. Because, yes.
Mel's, "I was just thinking about you" was the same. As was, "you make good food for thought." I think both of those lines, we decided were romantic.
Unrelated to that, I also had, typed out to mention, that joy and sadness came in the mail. That is, I got things of joy and things of sadness in the mail, but it was a few days ago now. Still, I got: photocards, which were joyful, but: credit card bill, which is not. However, I got: a CD from Rossi, which is full of joy and love, yet: a library fine, which is not. Finally, I got a coupon for Chapters, which is good. So, for the whole day, my joy was much greater than my sadness.
My credit card is up to $650. This worries me greatly.
Also, according to this, I am Jack Kerouac, followed by Allen. Apparently, I am considered by most to be the founder of the beat movement. my novel, 'on the road' started a revolution of sorts. I love travelling and have one crazy train of thought. I can speak french and am enthralled by both boys and girls.
This is what's important about Jack, apparently.
Romance, in me, is not completely dead. But, it's all in the translation.
*
So it's not really three am, and I'm only sort of lonely. And it took me almost a dozen skips on the playlist to find something that wasn't pop. Am I losing my religion?
Am I, am I. My religion, y'all, is based in consumerism, I'm not afraid to admit. And I don't see that going away any time soon.
It's actually a quarter of six, in the morning. Matchbox 20 and I are having a little party.
I. You know. When I was in first year, I went out one night, because of Anna, and I bought forty sleeping pills. I came back, plannning on swallowing them all. They cost me almost twenty dollars. Because of this cost, I never threw them out, and now I find myself thinking about them at odd times of the day, little blue caplets.
*
Bore. dom. You sing it, Rob. Sing your crazy little heart out.
Why don't they have a new CD yet?
I don't like being an alarmist. Or a boring read.
~
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