o/~ Goin down to cowtown.. cow's a friend to me

   Lives beneath the ocean, and that's where I will be o/~

Three hours in a car ... and depending on what I do, three hours back. Fortunately, before departure, I burned a CD with some new music... I'd list tracks, but then people doing web searches, trying to find the tracks, would end up being frustrated seeing the titles listed here. Let's just say that it's yet another strange, strange mix, with music from Bad Religion, 70s-style stuff, russian red army choir stuff, and some musicals, among other things.

What to do? So many places I could visit... And now, another gob of .. stuff.

The red cushion.. like a veggie in a can, tempts me. Sleep, it calls. An odd time for a visit, odder still for an audience. Someday, will all my secrets be up for display? My feelings mix, and logic tries to pry apart the meanings in that. Emotions are for now, rough guides, not long-term clothes. But what of X? Well, I don't know. Remember all the things you said you'd never do? And you did them? Remember all the things you said, and you changed your mind? And you changed your mind? You learned to forget the old things you said. Even now, dancing on the dried lava is not entirely safe. Life behind the shield only protects you from other peoples' swords, and the net result of all those little cuts you give yourself will do you in someday. Drop your sword, or get a band-aid. Again, I dissipate -- I know I'm not real to you, I'm not the real me, just a fabrication of memory stirred by a few strands of fabric and the whispers of the wind. When you stopped believing in your imaginary friend, you entered a cold world. And me? Imaginary friends have imaginary friends that are even more imaginary. I've retrieved mine, they sit by the window. I am all the richer for it, as I tiptoe back through the unwelcome corridors of your mind, to my room, in a place you won't let yourself go. The screams here are loud, the laughter, the feeling of continual movement, crisis and calm, all the bubbling beneath the surface. I regret you won't let me calm you anymore. But maybe your reality is a better salve anyway.

Last night, I spent several hours chatting with a friend I met over the internet. We dug through all the bizarre pages at supersnail.com, chatting on the phone while browsing the same site, thousands of miles apart, IMing each other particularly amusing things we found. It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest experiences I've ever had..

It's funny how a single stick of incense burned can create a smell in an apartment that lasts such a long time.. It's a nice smell...