No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-09-22 - 10:43 p.m.

gather round children; see the man without hope

i shouldn't have gone.

i really wasn't in the mood.

and EchoGirl, just to drive the point home, decided to crush any possible, lingering hope i may have had.

EchoGirl: "we don't have a date on thursday, do we?"

let's see, should i make my rejection official, and public, and even more humiliating, or should i lie?


me: "no"

EchoGirl: "good, because i don't want a date."

of course you don't. who would?

me: "okay"

EchoGirl: "what do you want to do?"

unplug the phone and hide under my covers.

me: "i don't know"

EchoGirl: "well, we'll figure something out"


i just really couldn't even pretend to be enjoying myself after that. plenty of cool people. good party. still going. in fact eRoommate is about to head out to the party now.

i just couldn't take it.

gather round, folks, gather round. we have a spectacle here for you the likes of which the world has never seen. captured deep in the urban jungles of Colorado, the all-singing, all-dancing freak of the universe. he's smart, he's funny, he's well-dressed, he's solvent. every woman loves him like a brother, but no woman will ever truly love him. he's the lonely guy. gather round, gather round, but don't get too close. and whatever you do, don't touch him.

no, don't touch him.

there were no hugs when i arrived.

no hugs from anyone tonight. (except for the much-appreciated internet hugs from my pen pal)

certainly wouldn't want me getting the wrong idea.

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