uncommoncold

I just went on the most pleasant walk in the rain. My gold umbrella above me, my black sneakers hopping over puddles, headlights in my eyes and up my nose and on my cheeks. Cars don't seem to have much regard for pedestrians, ever, but it becomes even more apparent when it's raining this hard. The whole "one minute I'm dry and warm, the next I'm covered waist-down from water from your fucking tires" schtick gets to be a little pass, don't you think?

But really, it was lovely. It doesn't even feel like what I expected winter to feel like this year. The geese migrated early this past August- the earliest my eighty-year-old boss had ever seen them go, in fact- and shivering coldness appeared to be in store for us west coast folks. It could still happen. I just thought it would've arrived earlier.

[I kind of miss you. I kind of want to call you up and ask you to come over and read Gulliver's Travels to me; we started last year, but it fell between the bed and the wall and we forgot about it until we went to move out. I liked the sound of your voice on those nights. What were we fighting about, again? Why can I never remember the reasons?]

Tonight: watching episodes of The Office, beginning my trek through the mass amounts of canned food I have lying around, and perhaps tossing in a bit of Latin to shake things up a little.

8:26pm: [And also, I could say that my life is infinitely happier without melodrama. You said I could phone you whenever I wanted to, but I don't want to show up on your call display. I don't want you to be sitting there with her on my mattress telling her she's beautiful and that she "completes you" and then have a good chuckle before picking up. These are places I don't want to go. I will not call, I will not call, I will not call. I'm stronger than all of this. I miss you like crazy right now.]

I've been listening to the Weakerthans far too much tonight. Now I just want someone to tell me I'm pretty and give me a hug and say something vague like, "the city is still breathing, but barely, it's true" so that I can insert meaning where I like it.

Lately, I've been wishing that I had written character sketches of almost everyone I've interacted with in any meaningful way throughout my life. However, I fear that this would pigeonhole them in certain ways, and perhaps wouldn't do them justice- but at the same time, to capture the way I perceived them at the apex of our relationship: that, my friends, would be ever so beautiful.

change your heart, look around you
change your heart, it will astound you