turn around, bright-eyes
This is my journal, I can talk of such things.
Tonight I went to the Econolodge, of all places. To sing karaoke. The grand prize is $400, so me and some girls showed up.
There was this boy - singing country music - with a smile prettier than damnit. Dave.
At the end of the night (I didn't win on a mere techinicality, but next week it's on) he came over and played a shitty game of pool with me (because I'm a shitty pool player)... he's in auto sales, and not my "type", but like I said, I'm a sucker for a pretty smile.
Dave, and I'll see him next week. I might even shake my ass for him.
After today's slow start, I stopped by Joe's lab to give him my most recent copy of Rolling Stone which had his boyfriend, Howard Dean, on the cover.
After class I spent a while in the library figuring out which obscure Native American language I can analyze.
Then I ate in the library caffeteria.
There was a bum in there, who I watched meticulously the whole time I ate.
He had all his belongings layed out in front of him:
six rollen cigarettes in a napkin
three cups of hot-water with five spoons of Sanka stirred in
a book called The Tangent Objective
two bruised apples
and a bottled water.
Two cops walked through, bought their "energy" drinks, and sat by the door to discuss their bad-ass conquests of drunken school-kids. They didn't even glance at creepy-homeless-guy in a student lounge.
The homeless man sat and sliced his bruised apples with a plastic knife. Carefully removing the bruising, and then dicing the remainder into tiny bite-size pieces.
As I ate my Chic-fil-a sandwhich I observed him taking his time. Then I thought to myself, in the words of The Black Heart Procession:
time is all we have, so take the time
The cops, though, irritated me. I've realized that I'm to the point now that whenever I see cops I don't think, "oh good! the police!"
Fuckin pigs.
My tolerance has shot up considerably: I had five shots and two beers tonight and still feel functional as hell.
I just hope I can sleep.
Please, Lord, let me sleep.
Heather and Rachelle say it's only because of the winter and that I live alone, and if that's the case, I refuse to allow such things to affect me so aversely.
This is frighteningly captivating to me, this inability to sleep during the night, and I am determined to defeat it solo.
Like, right now, I'm almost scared to lay my head down for what nasty things my mind will do to keep me from resting.
But here I go.
I'll tell you in the morning how it worked out.
