There'll Be No Milk As Sweet

Cold nighttime sneaking into empty apartments of an old heritage building is a nice way to unwind before Christmas. It is even nicer when it is with someone who can make you remember that though things are bad, it isn't all shit.

Black Pepper and Wine, Smoking On the Balcony

We sent our guests off with beers and cigars for the road. i love that we all live so close to each other these days - i can finish a beer and 2 cigarettes walking from your place to mine in the brisk nights.

Put Your Hand On Your Heart And Show Me

i won't believe you until you put your hand on your heart by cy



(alfred) + (monome) + (5 gins) + (late night Wednesday) ----> (coughing out a lung) + (fever and chills)

i am getting so fucking old.

Got Lonesome Fuel For Fire

Insomnia. It's been a long time since i've woken up in the darkness and couldn't sleep again. It's been a long time since i've been able to remember the way things were.

i'm listening to a capsule of the 00's right now, wide awake but getting sleepy. It is reminding me of so many things. i used to listen to Camera Obscura and Jens Lekman and Interpol, did i? i just found an old copy of the Believer shelved in my apartment too. Old like when Elliot Smith died. Old like i used to watch Subterranean on Sunday nights when we stole satellite signals from the States. Old like the indie shows and beer. Old like when we used to be sick of being in love. Old like when i would still organize my ipod. Old like when i'd pick up and leave. Old like when i served tables and ate loaves of bread. Old like when the breeze would float through my window and make my record player dusty while i read thick books. Old like when he took off his jacket and laid it on the wooden ground for me to sit on in the humid Ironwood while M. Ward played. Old like when i used to write and was alone.

i'm old enough to miss things. Or at least get nostalgic for turning on the bright lights. The sun looks like it might come up now.

...

Today, i watched the campus with a chance acquaintance and some cigarettes. He told me that i need an adventure.

i know.

The Unfamiliar Is Right Below Our Eyes

i woke up this morning beside him. i fell back asleep. When i woke up again, i didn't remember what happened the past weeks and past days. And when i got out of bed, everything came back - all the confusion, the bad feelings, the sadness, the embarrassment, the complete loss of all the things i thought i could do.

i almost threw up in the bathroom.

The layer of snow on the cold city made everything so surreal today. It matched my dejection and apathy. When i smoke in the little hovel by the science building, i can watch the quiet and white-dusted campus like i am watching a silent film. Everything looked sad today.

My heart actually hurts.

Freedom Is the Mastery of the Known

All summer, i've been staring out my window, watching people get stuck in the shallow waters of the river on their colourful, rope-tied rafts.

i am inside my apartment, watching the beautiful youth and summer pass me by, floating along with beers and no life jackets.

A few more days until judgment day. And then this Hell can end.

All Wrapped In Bones Of A Setting Sun

“I can see the

ocean. I miss you.
I’ll call you
tomorrow after my
phone is set up.”

i am almost cried dry. It’s that fucking song or the grocery isles, or when i close my eyes and inhale what i think is you. It is definitely the sushi stand that is now closed with a ripped-out fridge and concrete dust floors, and now i drink your tea and eat alone. i don’t know why this is happening because i knew you were leaving.

Watching the Warm Poison Rats

There has been a lull here, and there. So i suppose the lull has been pretty constant.

It won't stop snowing where i am. i've never had a problem with the snow or how it likes to visit the city every now and again in the months of April, May, and June. But this year, "Fuck off." i have used my space heater so much that it is now broken. Next to the broken heater and un-shoveled sidewalks, i think about Barcelona. i would sit on the terrace and smoke packs of Marlboro Lights, drink cold white wine, eat avocados, and talktalktalk. At night, i would run out and watch the djs spin and the old bars would serve tall gins. In the afternoon, i would sleep in past siesta because of the night before, and because the heat would slow things down. Grocers always fresh, Sundays always closed, days always long, little streets narrowed with heat and architecture, vintage and parties and music and art and popsicles all the time.

i will not be able to go anywhere this year. i have spent all my money on something responsible. And i have to stay and study for the big one. This dark hole that i live in is also under a rock. i can't wait to crawl out.

...

Last night, a man found me and told me that i was mysterious and beautiful. i watched him smoke a lot of weed prior to the comment, and i think that he wanted sex. But it was still disturbingly nice to hear - i don't go out anymore.