riding high in april, shot down in may

i have just had a most vexing last few hours, instigated by getting lost in fucking west seattle and missing my class, thrill kill kult blaring all the while. i am now at a cafe in my dancing clothes, trying not to think too much about the parking ticket i received this morning, or how sad it is that all the happy snow has melted. i was waiting for a bus downtown and an older man next to me struck up a conversation. "i had to work on my birthday" he said. we started talking, chit chit chatting, and he asked if he could buy me a drink. my bus was pulling up. i declined, wished him a happy day, and left. on the way home it struck me how sad that was. i hope he found someone to celebrate with. we are all lonely souls, ultimately. at the bank today the chirpy teller reccommended direct deposit, and my first thought was "but that's another opportunity for me not to interact with another human being", so i declined that too.
went to the fancy-pants downtown library and read smutty housewife porn as the brief sun splayed against the brick across the street. by the time i emerged, depressed and aroused, the sky was dark and people were walking brusquely from their jobs. this 4:30pm darkness thing is sucking my fucking soul. among sundry other drains.
but sinatra is playing, and that does wonders for my temperment.
i am in the far corner of this place, offering a stunning vantage point. the man next to me is looking at pictures of automobiles. two monitors down, someone is actually playing fucking solitaire, which is one of the most "no wonder this culture is so fucked up" things i've seen lately. now the auto-man is looking at missed connections on craigslist. oh god, he's after my heart, and he doesn't even know it.