Ugh. I'm phoning it in again. I just had three beers, two at the new "brewtique" in town and that was followed by dinner and conversation and now I'm just blobby and full. I went in search of something to write about and ended up at my previous journal. Here's one from the archives, December 11, 2003 to be exact:
i don't wanna make it rain, i just wanna make it simple
the rigorous testing process at my job-to-be (maybe) has ended and it is now my duty to...wait.
there is a cold rain in the city today that i simply don't mind in the least.
i picked up tim o'brien's the things they carried again for the first time in years and so far i have wept openly three times. if you want to be left alone in new york city, start crying on a crosstown bus, or anywhere full of people with not a lot of room to move. people are afraid of solitary criers. me personally? i am afraid of solitary laughers (despite the fact that i have been one on more than one occasion). laughter can turn quite maniacal at the drop of a hat... but tears are usually melancholy, or angry. today mine were empathetic, as they always are with mr. o'brien.
maybe i'm feeling a bit sissy-fied today. it is one of those days, unique to this life i'm living, where i don't actually feel i know anyone. perhaps i spent too much time walking around midtown this morning. i feel anonymous. i feel solitary. wholly without connection to another person.
i am lacking and wanting connection, physical and otherwise to one other person. i am not wanting to name names; that would serve as admission. so i shall keep it on the d.l., as the kids say today.
of course this is all a product of reading about war. cold isolation is the partner of knowing about what can and did happen, i suppose. but it has to be told and it has to be read, doesn't it?
you know what i need right now? i need some ice cream.
I promise I will try to write a real entry tomorrow damnit.
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