the cold front broke over us with a series of thunderstorms, great pounding reverberations that echoed between trademark blue skyscrapers and made the windows rattle like my soul. today the sky is brooding and a crisp breeze belies the aching heat of last week. i flipflop in my birkenstocks to seven-eleven to buy indulgent dill pickles and coffee, reluctant to go to the cafeteria by myself. realize that i prefer not to be alone, that despite the times when i retreat into my own little darknesses of pen and paper and silence and loud music, i generally enjoy just the presence of someone else. i think i am a bit afraid of being alone, lurking fear from those nights i laid awake wondering if he'd come crashing through my window to show me his scars.

i'm not working on my project today; instead, devoting the grey sky and counting crows again to reading everything i should have read already, surprisingly good books most of them for being schoolassigned. little yellow humanities which echoes my thoughts and depressing as usual apocalypse novel but quite well written, and the chaucer and to catch up on astronomy a few chapters.

enough with the rambling? but it feels so good.