What more could I wish for? I entertain myself with cufflinks pinned in an old Christian Dior white shirt, open to reveal a Small Hours black T. A Milkshake stocking cap instead of hairgel, old Brooks Brothers gray tweed blazer with a ski lift ticket still attached from Sundance. Borrowed black eyeliner applied later. Gleeful slight overdressing - Sagan was playing in town, 21 Grand. I went to see friends play amidst young machine spankers, making synth sing.

I danced through an expansive Korean menu. Cass and Hite. Danced to Books on Tape. Took notes for an essay on Sagan's perfecting fusion of live audio/visual stimulation in the mode of lay urban science.

Times I felt old. Angry performers poured bile past my capacity. Or posing prancing electronica-backdropped cock poetry. But I was absorbing local culture, with no other preference.

I want to write about someone I met who inspired me. But my interaction and dispelling here would be curtailed by her commitments. I mean I work to respect social ties as they are made evident to me. So I don't move strong, can't encourage anyone to trade up to me. Ditch him for your own reasons maybe, and take this card. I hope you do call me.

When I realize my desire is infinite, I am satisfied with anything. So her layered smells lingering under my nose, and the fresh burn of her straight truth spoken seared my brain. I was struck by a personality similarity - she overspoke; traded sentence length for density of observation. I'm a sucker for that. It was stroking to hear that it's still possible to be that tickled talking. I may have stiffened briefly but I carried it as a sense memory, not an inspiration to make the blues happen. It was enough to fall into a moment with someone unintended.

Full, I come home and I start writing again. In that mode that has me compulsively oversharing

<agro> I think you write more in a inverse relation to the amount of sex you are having

Some temptation to turn on the internet - I'm here, full of life awake and ready to talk and bond. But life swirls slowly past me here, in this room. I could perhaps conjure bodies into this space. But I'm alarmed by the effort required. The effortless of oversharing exceeds the temptation of financing or finagling human touch tonight. Full of memory still! I will be alive tomorrow.