theseeman

Ha. as my friend John Locke used to say, a promising old man. Dropped by a bday party very briefly avoiding a brace of exroommates and an evening of c grade conversations. hit 58 Broadway for some dvds and cam back to the house to see if the higrav three philosophers is still good after being left open since the 23rd. It is.

I drove up from Greene county today. Such a change to go from the fieldy flatlands to the mountains and shit. sprawl looks so much worse from elevation.

Got the desk in. a wonderful particle board big desk. Halley, the girl you think is scandinavian but isn;t helped me move it and she is a trooper. 36 hours awake and like a good friend agrees to move furniture at the drop of a hat.

I can feel it in the studio now. I feel pretentious for saying studio so much but it is exciting and I like the word. studio. a magic word like atreu or whatever that pasty kid yelled out the window on that stormy night. I'm going to eat a bag of ham and go to bed. I need to change that profile pic.

Sex is. Something I'll talk about to my journal but you guys don't really need to hear about all that. and besides I am enjoying an encounter that is more about me and the girl than another story. Not that I'm a callous braggart but in the past few years the redeming quality of too much of my sex life has been a story to tell. Of course she lives in the flat lands. But we're old friends and have no need to spin illusions.

The studio, where I write furiously and the bedroom where on white cotton sheets (stains be damned) I fuck with passion and lay languid with women or a woman who I can just relax with and eat breakfastr over strong coffee. If I accomplish the first part of the fantasy the other part may follow. or become irrelevant.