I am so in love right now. It worries me a little, because Lise says that if you let everything be a flesh wound, you'll bleed yourself dry in no time. But right now, I feel like I could bleed forever.

I had, a thing today. A huge breakfast at Shoney's made me sleepy-- and the kids went outside to play, so it was quiet in the house, and I fell asleep on the couch. I slept soundly for about an hour, I woke up and looked at the clock, and then I shut my eyes again, and, kind of fell. Into my head. I didn't fall asleep, but I, I don't know.

I was in my head. I mean-- you get to hear the things in your head, even see them when you're lucky-- but you don't usually get to _go_ there. And I knew that my eyes were closed and that I was inside my head, because I could the kids came back inside the house and let the dog in, and he came and licked my face, and I could hear everything that was going on around me-- but I didn't respond, and I was talking to people and walking down a road and through doors and, um.

Um, let's see.

It's like going to the center of where you come up with things. Like your Muse asking you over to _her_ house for tea.

I don't know. And, I'm a little bit embarassed to admit that I spent all of my spiritual journey trying to get laid. I remember, at one point I was sitting on a chaise lounge with a friend of mine who shall remain nameless, gesturing to my pants and saying, "Since this is just a dream, ya mind--?" and gesturing to my pants.

But, that makes sense, I guess. If I ever actually met my muse, we'd fuck for days.

Who watched the Superbowl just to watch *nsync and Aerosmith do the half-time show? Right here, baby. Also, I posted to a mailing list about goofy celebrity crushes, and that Chris has one on Adam Duritz. Which, I can totally see. Look at the hair.

Also, a story rec. Fucking kinky. Hot. Favourite.

I talked with Annwyn today. Rather, I talked to her. It was bad.

Annwyn is the icon in my life of Things That I Fuck Up. People that I loved, but not enough, I guess. Of things I could've given, but didn't.

And that sounds like regret, but it isn't. It's-- worry, I think. Because Annwyn wasn't the first, won't be the last. She was just the most easily wounded. I worry about you, baby, when I think about Annwyn.

Let me see if I can explain what went down.

Annwyn was my first friend. We met my freshman year of high school. She was witty and dramatic-- is witty and dramatic. She introduced me to Tori Amos and Neil Gaiman. I played some Janis Joplin for her once, and she made this awful face. I wrote a Toreador monologue and showed it to her, and she read it aloud, like she really took it seriously.

Anyway. She was my first friend.

And, I don't know. I think . . that I really just don't _have_ anything to give. Except my company. And that became apparent when Annwyn moved to Boston and my company wasn't available anymore.

--No, you know what, that's bullshit.

I have plenty to give. It's quirky and sporadic, but it's there. I just didn't give it. I gave it to Annwyn until she moved to Boston, just like I gave it to Winter until he moved to the city-- but afterwards, I just shut it down. I don't know why.

Annwyn called me her first day in Boston, from the phone in the lobby of her dorm. She was crying. The year after that she was back, and leaving for Boston again, and I was supposed to call her, and I, didn't.

There's no reason for me to be talking about this. In fact, on the off-chance that Annwyn might find her way here, I probably shouldn't. But, I just.

I just thought you should know. I think I need to start explaining the situation to people as soon as I meet them. Look, I'll say, you're going to have to beat the love out of me.

Despite my understanding and my shouldering the responsibility-- I honestly think it's a shame that Annwyn and I aren't friends anymore. I think we have alot in common.

Annwyn said to me, once:

it sounds trite and hackneyed, but it's true.
i never meant to hurt anyone.
but most rarely do.

That doesn't help, doesn't make things better, and I'm sorry about that. I feel like Blue, walking over to where Jean's sitting, red-eyed, on the couch, crouching down next to her and saying quietly, "Listen. Some things are bad."

I bit my tongue eating salad earlier. I thought, jeez, man. What are you doing biting that hard into a salad?

--Not a flesh wound.

It's now almost two o'clock in the morning, and I still haven't started my Jesus paper. I am a bad person. I'll have to cancel my assignment moose appointment and skip Italian. No spilt milk, there, really. But not having done the paper already means that I still have to do it.

--Also, not a flesh wound.

Ofekriver: Ahrm. I was saying: Can she pull off the mass slaughter bit?

Definite flesh wound.

--Alestar, in love.
***
My blood moves slower than other people's does. I--move slower than other people do.