the waiting game.
��������� �����the tune is "the last stop" by dave matthews band.the time is noon, on a otherwise blue-eyed tuesday morning.
dreams were gray-eyed and scattered. it rained heavily. i fell asleep reading "sacrament" by clive barker, something i haven't read in a long time, after having completed "tender is the night" by f. scott fitzgerald. soon i will need to find a copy of "coldheart canyon" by clive barker, and presently i will begin to devour that, as well.
a few more days stretch out across the expanse of waiting - talk of moving in, talk of the year ahead. i've planned out a schedule for myself, and want to adhere to it. lots of free time, lots of rehearsing, lots of time to get shit done. this is a year of re-invention. i cannot wait for the winter :
i am a winter person, as it is, anyway.
long talks with peter online, in which i concern myself with the business of thought vs. action.
a mess of clothes behind me, but a contented empty space on the rumpled sheets of the bed.
i would really like a thunderstorm while i'm down here. but if not, that's okay too.
writing more, now. and the possibility that my PC in maine might be easily fixed bringing a palpitation to my heart. the lights are dim here. i feel like listening to some coldplay, or something of that nature. ben folds five. the beatles, maybe. something to wake up to.
and, i'm done.