|I'm crossin' you in style...some day
2004-02-19 | 4:54 a.m.
*It's 3:37am and I am wide awake. Pete's in bed behind me, making quiet, content, sleeping sounds that cute boys tend to make while they're sleeping. It's a sound not easily replicated, but should be enjoyed when one has the oppertunity to experience it in person. I have Death Cab For Cutie playing softly on my computer even though I still have the lyrics and tune to "Moon River" floating around in my head.
...you dream maker
you heart breaker...
Hum, so what to say, what to say and be slightly introspective about right now, right before 4am in the morning. I feel like I should be in bed, asleep...but honestly, there's no pressing need for me to be there. It's not like I have to get up for a job or...anything at all. I could stay in bed all day long and eat pepperoni out of the package and read my book all damn day, only pausing now and then for quick pee breaks and maybe a few crackers.
Ah my life.
Over the past few months, all of my dreams have entailed me at the airport or some other type of station for some kind of mass transit, preparing myself for a trip to France. I, for some reason or another, am freaking out about this trip...then weird shit happens and I wake up. But always France. Why France? I wonder what France represents to my subconscious.
I wonder why I smell pop-tarts right now. My nose is all stuffed up, but for some reason I'm picking up a slilght hint of pop-tart wafting around somewhere. Maybe I'm losing my mind, or maybe I have pop-tart scented snot. Does snot smell like anything? Cause it's in my nose and I don't really smell anything, actually I smell the lack of things, so maybe snot has a negative smell to it. Hum...
*It's 4:02am and I'm only slightly less awake as when I half hearted started writing this. I'm sitting here in my black old-navy boxers with little white ghosts all over them. Pete likes to sleep with a pillow on his head because he likes it to be pitch black while he sleeping. He pulls this pillow over his head while he's laying sideways and talking to me. Everytime I respond he says "WHAT?" because the pillow is covering his ear. He never hears what I'm saying, and sometimes I mumble on purpose because I'm a bastard.
[Pete and I laying in bed in the dark]
Me: I'm totally wide awake. Maybe I'll go write an email to my sister.
Me: [pulling the pillow away from his ear] I'm totally wide awake. Maybe I'll wait till you're asleep and then I'll jerk off all over your face.
He then usually pouts at me with his half-closed eye lids, mumbles something about how I'm such a mean boyfriend, bites my finger, then rolls over and passes out. What a baby.
...Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see...
I got an email from my sister this afternoon. These amuse me because she writes the same exact way that she talks...usually in one long, rambling paragraph. Not that you can really speak in paragraphs, but...just try to guess what I mean cause I don't feel like explaining myself at all.
She said: "So what is going on with you? How is the job/car search thing going? Does it make you feel immediately stressed when I say that? Do you think that I'm mom for a second and the nagging will start soon? I am just curious, not nagging cause I am not going to run anyone's life. Except for my own. And sometimes David's. And Andy's when necessary. Damn it, I am trying to let go."
and then went on to tell me a dream that she had recently involving Nick Lachey and a few choice Patriots linebackers. It sounded hot. I wish I had hot dreams like that. Mine all involve me being stressed out and then going to France. Oh well, I guess it could be worse. I could still be having those dreams that I did when I was a Sophomore where I would be having sex with Ms.Shirley, the little old black lady who was one of the grounds keepers for my dorm. I would always wake up so traumatized from those, I think I just needed to get laid.
*It's 4:25am and if I was one of the SIMs, my little energy bar would be half green and I would seriously thinking about taking a nap. This could be because I'm now listening to Norah Jones and the girl just makes me sleepy as all get out. I love it. Her new CD is damn good by the way. A bit more...country...than the last one, but good none the less. Run out and get it now...yes, right now.
I find it odd that I sit here in the wee hours of the morning and, as I'm getting annoyed by how this keyboard likes to either double every few letter I type or skip them all together. I'm also sitting in the back of my head, discussing and arguing aesthetics with myself. But not in the "What is art? Am I art? If I pee in this cup, is that art?" kind (answer: if you pee in a cup, stick a crucifix in it, and photograph it...then yes, it is) The little angel and devil who sit on my shoulders are a bit more internal and like to discuss this ccrap while I'm getting pissy at an old piece of computer equipment. Funny how things works.
...We’re after the same rainbow’s end
waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend...
This song has always freaked me out. Can one be friends with a river? It's almost like that christmas song "Do you hear what I hear?" I don't like songs that I could be walking around at some point and then the Night Wind would just say "Uh...hey...you. Yeah you. The fat kid with bed head. Am I going crazy or can you see that star over there doing some crazy shit?" this is where I would crap my pants and fling myself to the ground in a very Shakespearian 'and I die!' kind of moment where I would scream out my intention of dying...and then I would...with crappy pants.
A star, dancing in the night with a tail as big as a kite. That song always bothered me as a little kid. I dunno. I think too visually sometimes...which is probably why the Angel and Devil are busy debating.
*It's now 4:43am and I would like to point out that I think I shall crawl into bed, bite Pete's finger, and go to sleep myself. He'll probably mumble something about me being a bad boyfriend in his sleep, but he has a pillow over his head, so I won't be able to hear him.
Question: If no one is awake to hear me make cute, sleepy-boy noises, will I still make them?
Answer: Fuck yes.
...moon river, and me.
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