i confess, i have always been of spastic mind. a fucking drama queen, actually. it keeps things EXCITING, i suppose. i feel better today than i have in a while- a quiet calm assurance that shit shall resolve, eventually, in its own way. don't fight it, feel it, right?
thus i shall spend no more superfluous thought on the dark cloud of fuckery that looms, damoclean. (by typing that i prove to be spending thought on it.)
the air was cold and the moon was full last night, casting shadows, making everything ridiculously sharp. we babbled nonsense on the telephone for over an hour, from my trek down 39th to the clattering 26 across aurora to the debauchery of downtown to my cat-strewn lair, on my back on the sofa, staring at st mark's cathedral across the lake, absently playing with the cats. i love not thinking about what i'm going to say next. i love the comfortable silences. i love having my little slice of the world that i can retreat into whenever i please.
and i am fucking loving yo la tengo. whatever took me so long?
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