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/ november is a month of ghosts

a grey knive lurking on the corner of the bathroom counter, incongruously balanced on the edge - just about to fall - the light of day leaked into the room like dish detergent being squeezed gently out of a bottle, and over in the corner, rats rustled in a paper bag. he walked into the room to the sound of the ceiling fan slowly misunderstood. his left sneaker squeaked slightly. paper in his pocket crumpled up and a blue crayon behind one ear. a muddy cigarette in one hand and no lighter. his eyes are silently stained-glass windows inside a church with no congregation, waiting for the hollow bellpulls - the doorbell of the Almighty. he takes out a sharpie and marks an x on the wall. moments later a fly buzzes fatly in and lands on the ��������������������������������������������spot, preening and humming to itself. below, at the baseboard, an ant trundles in. he looks at the mirror. he looks away. outside, a bird hits the window, and all things still, in hushed������������������������������������������mourning. an ignorant cricket looses a selfish mating call and
2003-05-12, 7:17 p.m.

change in the pocket of my jeans

��������� �����the summer, a strange new feeling. independence. notsummer. rain slicks the pavement. groceries accumulate, the lights are dim in this room. i'm only on half of it. roommate has not shown up yet - we'll see, i guess, if he does. people are around, i guess, but there's still that feeling of needing to find a job and running ...

i woke up this morning at noon and immediately did some calisthenics. felt good. i want to visit the gym soon. a new sense of reinvention, i guess. sort of. my computer is situated right next to the window, and the fridge next to that. bed behind. blinds on the window. cold leaks in from everywhere, less-than-fifty degrees all day today. god knows when it will get warm. i'm waiting for that, because right now we are steeped in chill & cold. i slept last night so well - since moving took all the energy from me. many fridges, computers, TVs, errata. i moved quickly and efficiently with the help of my station wagon and asa, jason's new roommate. i like this dorm, a whole hell of a lot. i'm not sure why. just .. i like it. it feels like college should, i guess.

ben folds, the luckiest. [i don't get many things right the first time, in fact, i am told that a lot] but no depression here. just restricting financial issues. i need/want a job, now. i'm going to apply somewhere, soon. this room is so damn comfortable. privacy, something i didn't ... really have with jason. for right now, anyway. i don't know if travis is going to move in. even if he does, i doubt i'll mind much. this room is longer than it is wide, and i am on the far end of the room. the keys clicking make odd echoing noises in the fastness of this room. i enjoy it, somewhat.

a weird notsummer. almost winterish. the desk lamp turned on and tilted up to flood the room with light. the dali print on the wall above my monitor. a sense of ... calm. [i am / i am / i am / the luckiest] and so it goes. no classes, no homework. a cell phone. books piled, half-open boxes. a guitar, a basketball, a tennis ball. leather jacket draped over the chair. the big red tapestry hanging on the wall parallel to my bed - a giant celtic cross pointed toward the window. everything feels on its side.

i don't think i could live this way alone for a very long time. without doing anything. i am going to become more fit this summer. my goal is to be healthy. my goal is to be efficient and productive. eyes-on-the-goal as it were.

odd not to have a roommate. jason's humming, singing, snoring, breathing - they'd all become part of a background symphony - the 423 robie symphony, and the odd shape of the room. used to things.

but in all things, i'd desired change.

and so.

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�SEH