7:52 p.m. - November 18, 2002
It's dark out and I'm working
Making decent progress on the book tonight and it feels good to see completed pages pile up. The onset of a headache is sneaking my way, I suspect.
Regarding the earlier post, I want to be clear that I am not whining about the lack of privacy in a public forum. I took a chance and that itself was healthy; unhealthy would be unmoderated reactions of flight and password-protecting and neither option appeals. I am disappointed but will not dwell.
Downloading music as I work, listening to classical guitar and periodically gazing through the window and it is black out with a slight draft crawling up my legs. Yes, a good night.
Nostalgia or dwelling, your call. I'm indecisive. Was thinking about that first kiss with Spec when we were in the car at the park in the pitch black all around and I was nervous, afraid, apprehensive, wondering if this would be the time I'd realize moments can last for an hour. We were holding hands and he leaned over and I leaned away and we laughed, and I admitted I didn't know how to kiss a guy and he took my face in his hands and said Let me show you. We are the aggregate sum of individual discontinuities with those rare confluences of time and place soothing everything into a working whole.
Such experiences are beneficial.
I miss Spec but it isn't the hurt miss; it's nearing the nostalgic miss but hasn't reached that spot just yet.
It is the danger I miss, the adrenaline of coming to life and feeling again. Maybe I'll experience it again, maybe not. Right now, I'm doubtful and hesitant, but you never know.
I say but too often.
