dim watt

I once received a gift shaped like a disc and full of musical guts/very good thoughts called "Longing This Long." After knocking into a bunch of stuff today I re-found it, lost and caseless, so very nude, and I went ahead and let it spin me right 'round. This listen re-christen came on the heels of a string of XX dreams that I had just exited from + was still savoring like a dozey, rank Viking...and maybe the blend of old strum and the rawness of -that- brand of sleep made me feel more than a little cracked open, achey. I see now that I'm in the middle laps of a vague longathon myself, the first in quite some time. My compass needle has pitched and is skating the circle. And I'm physically hunting for beauties, too...I make conversation with nearly any handsome old man who gets near me, and if you're extra close and we're pals I'll likely touch you. A lot. In fact, to reign it in I have to clasp my hands in kind nun/concerned art docent fashion.

What, or who, I'm longing on and on about is something of a lagoon bubble. Today I met a girl at the Rite-Aid on Glendale Boulevard, and after a good talk about boys who like their girlfriends to smell like cheap candles and what a drag winter skin is, I almost told her. Almost. For now, the longing is laced up and around my spine, that thing that connects my head to my heart to my...ass. I'll probably make a lasso.

fell on 2004-12-14 at 11:17 p.m.

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