je voudrais...

today is one of those that would be nice to share with somebody. i'm not feeling lonely, just alone, if that makes sense. i think of opening my apartment door and crawling into bed naked and sliding on top of a warm body. i think of being abruptly pinned against a wall in some semi-public corridor, heads held an inch apart until it's intolerable, then being absolutely devoured. and devouring them. i imagine their neck, their hands, their mouth. the noises. the smell. the giggly stupid aftermath, boneless, watching the world filter by through drugged vision. i have sex on the brain. sitting here and typing so inocuously!
anonymity can be a blessing.
i usually arrive at this cafe around 10pm. most men, to my surprise, order hot chocolate with whipped cream at this hour. or tea. not a lot of coffee. the hot chocolate orders are charming. i am feeling love for my surroundings. appreciation. 'always something there to remind me' just came on. this is a FUCKING GREAT SONG. i still have the 45. i used to dance around to this in my bedroom when i was a nubile teen. it still makes me feel the same way.
there are people i see in my everyday meanderings who i would love to go up to and say "you look interesting. want to go get some coffee and talk?" i immediately write this off as an unsettling stalkery action, though i would be incredibly flattered if someone did this to me. what do i get on the street? requests for money or lecherous commentary, delivered by old vagrants. i always thank them.
there is a human obscured by a pillar. i can see their laptop, their cup, their back. they are humming (tunefully!) to every song that comes on. it is a male. i had to crane my neck, none too subtly. he is currently accompanying phil collins, the always the same/what a shame song. there is something charming about guys liking terrible music as well. seriously- this is a song EVERYBODY fucking knows, and EVERYBODY fucking sings along to when they're unobserved, and i'm not proud about it either, but damned if it isn't catchy. to my credit, i do not know what it is called, and i am fine with that.
i was blaring neil diamond as i got dressed today. i suppose that completely nullifies me from having any sort of valid musical opinions.
why do i get my second wind after 10pm? why don't stores stay open later? i want to go buy furniture or romp on the beach. i still think my business idea of opening a cafe from only the hours of 9pm to noon is an excellent one. swing-shifters haven't an outlet of their own. the cafe would have a dim, pretentious air, but with one corner full of those damn light-boxes for the vitamin D-deprived. vitamin D-prived? and many plants. perhaps a caged bird to chirp merrily. the patrons can teach it foul words. an i-pod open mic. serve-yerself coffee and hot water. bring a picture of something offensive to hang on the wall and get a free meal. this is MY IDEA!
the walk here is very appealing lately. mown grass, blossoms, the salivatory aroma of the ethiopian restaurant, dryer vents aimed at the sidewalk. it smells lovely here. that is a very important thing, really. it makes it nigh impossible to be in a foul mood.