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7:27 p.m. - December 22, 2002
You know as well as I what I want
The mystery of the disappeared Christmas CD has been solved via my father, who asked if it was mine while he and his Lady Friend dropped off Christmas presents. Apparently it has been in his CD player all this time and gone un-noticed because he's Deaf, which is a non-sequitur ending to the tale. I suspect my sister is involved.

So. There. It's a bit too close to Christmas now to mail it, but if you would (still) like a copy, let me know, eh? If I say so myself, it's a damn good compilation.


Worked with measurable progress on the book (you know, technically it's called a manuscript. One would think I'd refer properly.), studied lyrics for the thing--this year, no foreign-language pieces except for a few in Latin and that's not a problem for me--and talked with Spec for a bit. Yes, you read that right, but there's no need to delve into that just now. I'm weak, he knows it, I know it; I'll be careful.

Yeah, I know. I want him to go away yet not, I don't want to talk to him yet do, don't want to think about him but can't help it. I want him to watch me at the concert but resisting temptation, want to cuddle with him, listen to him sing to me. No no no no.

I am surprised to see how much I want someone. I'm not entirely hold-hearted; a relief.


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