Can't Be Certain

that any of this is going to pay off. I guess that's always the case so all we can do is give it a good shot. Just keep ourselves from starting a collection of memories of ourselves half-assing at things. A study in going soft. Ick.

Wanting none of that, so whether or not all of these nights and weekends amount to anything down the road I am banking on each one of them as a kind of funny keepsake. From that summer I spent tanning inside my apartment and revising documents.

It's not gay Paris.

It's not Saudi Arabian sand dunes.

It's not camels. It's not snorkeling.

It's not para-sailing, either.

Or bazaars. Or sequined dresses. Or boys with tattoos on skateboards without their shirts on.

Or lipstick.



I could go on about the things I'm missing, but that's another story all by itself. Actually, The List of Things My Current Life Is Not. Well. That'd be a useful thing to be turning out in this time that I'm captive. THAT'S the document I should really be working on.

Okay.

Tangent. Done.



I realized the other day that Step 1 is Getting Over Myself. That means more sharing and less being scurrrd. And much less being too busy to be myself.

We'll see how that pans out.

Night.