Some words.

They just get me.

Like "Dull." "Dull" makes me want to rebuild cities and rediscover things. Makes me want to sail out into the open sea and look for bumps under the ripples and waves that could be the beginnings of new lands. Maybe it's because I'm terrified of the word... Or maybe because I want to be it for a day?

I want a double life, too. Maybe "dull" is one of my double lives. But is it the known one, or the secret one?

That'd be a fun afternoon.

I consider Tom Waits to be a fine poet. He's got his own way of describing ideas and feelings that just rip me apart. It's like those people who always say what other people are afraid to... And you never know whether to think them amazing or crazy.

By the way, while I'm thinking of it, people who deem themselves "crazy" anger me so. I'm guilty of doing it in the past but I don't anymore simply because it's... just... offensive. Calling yourself "volatile" is one thing, but "crazy" is quite another. I have this theory that those who do that are the most uninteresting, [dare I say] dull people alive.

I wish they'd just set sail on their own boats for a change. Redefine something, for Pete's sake.

Somebody's Punchline.

Been thinking about Krissy a little bit today. Every so often, she pops into my head. Though our relationship with based mainly on great music, routine, and (at least my) physical attraction - I still miss her sometimes. I liked her laugh, her little boy dressing-tendancies... So I got chalked up to "a phase", I'd still do it all over again. Except this time...

...I'd kiss her first. Maybe so she wouldn't have to.

I'm not sure.

No sleep for the single eye.

I've been thinking about her all night. The way she used to feel in my hands, her curves... The way I'd push her around, and she'd always bounce back - appreciating every bit. The way she'd share, the way she'd go everywhere with me.

But she's gone, and all I have to show for her is a memory stick and a pocket of pennies.

I need a new camera, otherwise I'm pretty sure I'll be offset for a good while longer. I just don't feel right. It doesn't feel right not being able to show others the way I see things. It doesn't feel right to keep it all inside - I need a new camera, and I need it soon.

Petty to some, life threatening to others.

Can't sleep a wink.

Swim again, then.

My fish still won't die. For some reason, the water keeps getting blacker and blacker, but he won't let go. He won't just bite it and go. He's insistant upon not floating up, he'll move his fins when he sees me walk by.

Just to prove he's still there.

Usually, I'd think "maybe he knows it'll get better", but this time... I just don't believe it. I don't believe the water will magically clear and he'll be jubilant and free again. He'll just sit at the bottom of that bowl and stare up at me.

It's been weeks since he stopped greeting me when I came home.

It's been weeks.

YOU think.

Coincidences... Are they real? Is chance really that clever? Or are there even such things as coincidences at all?

Discuss.

I'm really interested in what you think.



I also wonder if they had just bought a pack of 4x6 index cards and a red marker and wanted to test it out.