I was sitting just here last night, I think, but not at the same time. I'm drinking the same coffee--not the same coffee, but out of the pot I brewed yesterday, which I didn't empty last night because I was afraid it might explode my heart. And stuff.
I guess Heart Full of Soul was playing when I paused iTunes, closed the computer up, and ventured out into the city. This was to spend time with Lovely, and we watched the Astronaut's Wife together, which isn't really a very good movie. It's well written, and poorly executed--one of those, if you will.
At Cublett I had an Oktoberfest. There are many Oktoberfest, but only one ever on draught, if you know what I'm talking about. My heart's not entirely into it tonight, my voice is tired and dusty, or apathetic, or tired, which seems to reflect the exhaustion with which I dread tomorrow morning, at the Bursar's office, and the next day, and the day after that, and every day I live and dredge through until I don't owe Student Loans, or at least have the job that will put my mind at some comfortable ease, anyway. Which I'm going to have to work for, which is fine, but have no idea where to start, which is unnerving. I don't remember the last time I had nerves.
Anyway, my heart's generally full of soul but tonight it feels the sole, a heel that presses down on it, or the chords that wrap it tightly around my feet as I trudge forward, forward, over a bed of coals or nails and with nothing else to walk on. No wings, not tonight. Tonight the burden of reality seeks to put forth a genuine psychic effort on my behalf, with the desperate hope that maybe I can tip the balance in my favor. If only for a while.
Mad's gone, too. I didn't get to say goodbye, but she probably doesn't think I'd want to, anyway. I'm not going to say it's her loss unless she feels that way.
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