Last night I touched up my hair, went to a show with Michele, had a few beers, and imploded. I have that nagging feeling this morning that I either fucked something up or am about to. Last night was mostly fun. My hair is purple again! At the show, Imaad Wasif's drummer spilled beer all over my bag, so he bought us drinks. Also, they were great. I took off during their last song so I hope Michele got one of their albums like we talked about. There were so many cute girls with short hair. Love.
It's beautiful out right now but it's supposed to storm again later. Super fucking lame. It's supposed to be Spring! WTF?
Last night I told Bo that the idea of love fills me with such terror that I'm not going to let myself get near it. He said, "It's going to happen. Whether it's me or someone else, it will happen, whether you want it to or not." Right. Exactly. That's the problem.
It's like I'm scaling the walls of a fairly deep, dark cave. Now and again I'll find myself paused and comfortable with a firm, steady grip. So I relax a little. Immediately I lose my footing and start tumbling into the abyss, arms flailing around, trying desperately to catch myself on something. And when I find something to grab onto to stop myself, I fucking hold on for dear life. I don't know what's down there. Possibly dinosaurs. And sharks. I can almost hear them, except I must be full of shit because they've got to be so far away that hearing them would be impossible.
Now that I've stretched that metaphor way too thin, I'm going to watch the session I missed last week and see how my couple is doing, and get ready to TA. The day is starting, whether I want it to or not, and I'mma make it good.
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