01:38 - December 07, 2002
unprosaic
I finally put my finger on what it is that makes him so odd. It's the living in the present, the constant 'now' that everyone's always preaching and nobody ever practices, and now I see why: because it's disconcerting and has no continuity.... aaaaaand you can't put your finger on it until TWO MONTHS LATER. It's like there's a completely different person there every time you see him. It doesn't matter what happened yesterday; it doesn't matter that you wrote some of a song together or that you climbed a mountain or that you pulled his hair into a scrunchy and sprinted to the gas station shrieking with laughter; today is a new day, a new interaction completely. It's good because if we got into a fight, it doesn't matter tomorrow. He won't mention it and if you do, he'll give you this blank look like; 'I have SO been over that for years and years' even though it was twelve hours ago. It's bad because no matter how much we share with each other, and we do share a lot, it's lost overnight. If you try to recapture it tomorrow, the same blank look will appear, like 'what? who are you, stranger?'

Anyway, I had an excellent night (which nobody cares about, but about which I shall commence writing about anyway because every once in awhile I like to have a fuck-the-world attitude; it's easier.) Nick and I went to the graduate students' showcase thing, which involved some stuff by my composition and aural skills teachers, who have simply confirmed their weirdness to me (but in that good way, of course). Then there was this cafe he wanted to go to that turned out, when we got there, to be an art studio (just because it's called the CAFE of life doesn't necessarily mean it has food, apparently), so we went to the Ethiopian place he's been trying to make me go to, and ate mystery food with mystery bread with our fingers, which was exotic and fun, though the tiny table and low-sitting chairs made me feel even taller than I already feel. I ran to the crisis line after that, being pretty late, and it turned out that one guy and I were the only ones there. I took my first call ever (having FINALLY finished training, three months later) and it wasn't earth-shaking, and the guy and I had great conversation the entire time about everything under the sun because there weren't too many calls.

I had a good night. I can't believe how little I say these words. I also can't believe that when I do have a good night, the best I can write about it is to have a 'dear diary, here's what i did today' entry. Oh well. I'm going to bed now, on that completely un-prosaic note.

previous - next