Some old journal excerpts

April 11, 2000

Her breath, fogging the plexi-covered jukebox while I stood there (pretending not to stare).
In an alternate reality, I reached for her neck and she wet my lips with her ungodly pulsing warm soft smooth whatever.


April 15, 2000

Little things happen that make me feel good. The "What's in my eye?" and the "You love me, right?" and the switch that turns on in her soul when I come blazing through the crowd to carry her away from it all (on my back) and the little shakes she had when she hugged me tonight.


June 1, 2000

Last night, Sid sat next to me on the outside of the bar. I smiled and said "Hi there. Come here often?" She said "No. They don't let me. It makes the floor sticky."


July 2, 1992

Time is the devil.
And memory, yes memory, is his companion.


July 25, 1992

Caution. Do not love.


August 8, 1992

Washed away my fondest writings this morn. In the shower. Naked. They came to me as I washed my neck. And I paused, admiringly, at my own thoughts. And frantically rinsed as they sped away from my clenching digits. I know, now, why they parted. I had nothing to hold them in. No pockets. I'm gonna have to wear clothes in the shower. Or at least bring a Ziploc.


November 9, 1992

When the stars fail to light your way, I'd be there, if I could.


July 17, 1993

I used to watch her cross campus in my jeans.