May 9, Wednesday
4PM: i met a nice dog adopted from PAWS. all dark and cuddly, shadow gave me a loving welcome. he kept pushing his large, ink-black body towards my legs, and i kept crooning at him.
5PM: my brother sent me a text message, with a warning that i ought not to cry too much. my pet turtle died today. oh man. no more i love you’s. oh annie lennox, why does love have to be this way? i am a bad parent. fuck.
6PM, xavier hall, with the initially giddy girl in white: all i wanna do is leave, go someplace and hide there for years. i’d build a little house with sticks of rainmakers in every nook, teach lonely kids to dance and write, hug trees, pet a wolf, get some tattoos, write on loose sheets of brown paper. “Listen to my nervous laughter/sunken deep inside my heart/My lips are dry I’m teary eyed…/Harken all you fallen angels. /Help me find a place to rest. /My head is pounding here / beneath the weight of this….” — wishing that, jann arden
people say i overread. i do. at this very moment, i am thinking of cinema paradiso and of the story of the soldier who waited for 100 days for his girl to open her window as a sign.
9PM: “One map west of this map is less crowded, but has fewer geographers as well.” editing articles on gaming. trying to forget. trying to stay grounded.