pull me by my hair and hang me from the heavens

the problem with good moments is that they fucking END. the glory passes and i am left with a jangled, unfinished caul over everything. that was yesterday. and it's hanging on, a bit, despite its pointlessness. life can be extraordinary. i should feel fortunate to be so reminded.
*
in the midst of this lovely spell, d told me he wants to be with me. he wrote me a letter on tuesday. it was a letter that blew my mind and made me cry and caused me to laugh vapidly whilst walking down the street by myself. however: i had written this off as a possibility a long, long time ago, for multiple and extremely good reasons, any one of which would be more than sufficient. our friendship has progressed to the point where the thought of being anything more would seem incredibly awkward. it would be like fucking a brother- a very, very confused and fucked-up brother who is way too effeminate and smokes too much and listens to the scissor sisters (who are, i guess, okay in very small doses) and swings both ways and these are only the minor, superficial things... traits that are endearing and which make him who he is, and make him someone i adore, but not what i would want in a, perish the term, boyfriend. i know what i want. i know what makes me excited, happy, interested, hungry for more, impatient to explore. and i don't think he's it.
i don't know.
i have had to talk myself out of liking him too much since i first met him.
*
yesterday i was subsisting on three hours of sleep and a sluggish sensation of remorse- when s left and i was driving away from the airport, the sun was shining and 'don't do me like that' was on the radio and i sang along as loudly as i could whilst wiping fucking tears out of my eyes like a silly little girl. i miss him in an empty, achy way. and then i feel stupid. and then i feel happy to be alive and able to experience the emotions that make us human.
we had the first spa modality class in school yesterday. i gave and recieved my first hot stone massage. it was fucking luscious, actually. it's slippery and oily and warm and wonderful and may help me get over my lifelong spa bias. i am planning a trek to hwy 2 next week to forage for proper rocks (basalt, flat, <8") to try the techniques at home. the teacher is one of my favorites, a sarcastic and abrasive little man who has taught our research and neuromuscular courses in prior terms. he was quite explicit about the pervasity of spa work. apparently 70-80% of massage therapists end up working in some form of spas... which i am revulsed by, as i still see my little ADA-disapproved garret with the acid house decor and fucking pete sinfield soundtrack, offering relaxation without the goddamn salt scrubs and aromatherapy... but the hot stones, like i said, are really fucking cool, so i will try to be more open-minded. as the teacher said, "we end up taking the first job we can and end up working for crooks, assholes, and dipshits."
d and i met last night. he asked what i thought about what he'd said. "your timing is terrible!" i blurted. it was a rather uncomfortable evening. i drank two drinks very quickly while he nursed one. there was a parking ticket on his car when we left the bar. he dropped me off and we hugged. nothing more was established. i entered my empty apartment, lights still blazing, and took a valium. i leaned against the wall and watched the cats sleep. i watched cars on the freeway. and i distinctly thought "there's more than this, because i have proof."
*
this morning i made raita for 'employee appreciation week'. i made something up. i carmelized onions with salt, cumin, garam masala, and garlic, let it cool, and mixed it into whole milk yogurt with cayenne and a shitload of fresh cilantro. i dropped it off at work earlier. people said it was good. i should cook more, if only because i love chopping things.
'horehound' is a fucking brilliant, filthy, amazing album. it is more suited for a dark room and raunchy sex than a hot car and sunny traffic, but it's helped me a lot today.
*
and i miss my fucking camera.