I'm not really sure how things are with the gentleman caller. I'm not sure. I honestly don't know how we left things - he seems to think not that badly at all. Well, alright. I'm just taking it easy and trying to recover from a massive headache. We should be going out to a woodsy waterfallsey place at some point.

He's totally and utterly endearing sometimes. I want to be his friend.

I'm really highly changeable. I am always touched by Melissa's offers to hold grudges until someone dies, but she cannot hold mine! Mine change so often! People fall in and out of my favor so quickly. Usually it's back in, really.

Last night a boy coiled around me like a snake, and my skin it did crawl as he told me I was too pretty for the boy I came with. I did not dance with him, and he took it as a sign that I did not care for dancing. This is not true.

Meanwhile, Pinker and The Language Instinct hurt my hungover head, but it's a good aching pain. When I read his summation of Chomsky's theories, I felt it in my heart.

Today was also a day of many lovely and much appreciated telephone calls. You know who you are. You know how much I delight in your voices - terrifyingly clear from across the cold neurotic sea.

Sometimes I am left without words when it comes to the strange and upsetting emails that come my way.

2003-02-08, sometimes

before / after

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