Some housekeeping before I get into things:
What was recorded for "Sleep Music" is lost for the time being. J--- doesn't seem to have any time to keep looking for it, so the plan now is to rerecord it during Reading Week, which starts the 11th for me. Expect it in the mail a little over a week from then, or maybe we'll make it a Christmas thing. I don't know. We'll talk it over.
Call this Friday?
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I feel like I can never shut up about girls and feelings, and I know you're by no means against hearing about any of it, but I still feel like I ought to spare you of any more bullshit. So, I'll dump my thoughts about my latest foray in this post. It's not going to be very edited or complete, and it'll sprawl on indefinitely as usual, but now you can choose to hear about it. Here goes nothing:
I'm shocked she likes me to be totally honest. And that's not to say it came out of nowhere, like, there were clear signs since around day 2 or 3 of knowing her. I can't quite remember if I wrote about this already, but the one moment where we made two puppets make out with each other comes to mind. But shit like that was easy enough to talk myself out of. I guess I was right the whole time.
I can not forget her eyes from the other night. All the poetry and modernist novels I've been reading for class have been super hung up on eyes, and I totally get it now. That was *her* right there, as she is and completely alive. I barely know her, but holy shit. For a minute there, I felt like there was nothing I couldn't see. What's fascinating is that the R---- I saw while shitfaced and bundled up with her on the floor where J-----'s dining room table sits is distinct from the R---- I see most days. Not radically distinct or anything, but different. She was bare. I pray to God I was bare to her, too. I seemed to have been. We would occasionally lock foreheads, close our eyes, and giggle, and then there would be that sudden effervescence - that thing that gets flowers to bloom or children to sing - shooting through the both of us. We talked about 1001 Nights, spending lots of high school lunches in washrooms, The Pixies' Bossanova, our parents, and how I'm great with them, etc. Once again, I was recklessly drunk, and she only moderately so. Very Jeff Rosenstock. Everyone was watching us. She would say something like, "Oh, God, we're *those* people now." And, of course, drunk as fuck (and it should be noted that I was also in sunglasses in doors and very late at night), would go "I don't give a fuck!" Which I didn't.
I can't wait to get to know her. I see her again today. We're going to see the fucking FNAF movie on the weekend.
I have no idea where this will go, but I'm curious to see it through. And I know that I'm a moderately fucked up guy lost in Edmonton. I don't know where I'm going, hence being 'lost', but I'm sure as shit trying to get found. No, *I'm* not fucked up. I'm a full, rounded, and true human being. I have very big problems and a messy past, yes, but I am not innately fucked up.
