wish you were here: Jul. 31, 2003 (11:07 pm)

around 10am i was waiting for the metro train to arrive reading a book with the cover folded back. this girl smiles at me and i think that's nice and go back to reading about existential southern belles and strong searching heroes. her voice is loud behind me and she tells me, "i'm reading that book." i don't believe her because i'm folded over it and it's folded over itself so i question her, "the movie goer by walker percy?" she pulls it out of her purse. she tells me she doesn't understand why it's considered such a great piece of literature because she doesn't get who people are on page 150 but she concedes that some of the descriptions are so "dead on that i need to catch my breath." i don't really get what she's saying so i tell her that i'm just waiting. i'm a lot better with appreciation than criticism. the lights flash and the train comes and we stand side by side and i rush into the open door so that i don't have to choose not to sit with her. she's taller and faster so i'm the jerk who sits on the opposite side of the train and opens up a book. separatly, we travel in the tunnel reading about a man who likes to take busses because they are an adventure.

tonight i saw that man who looks at me at shows and he looked at me and i looked at him. i don't want to hear about you touching girls you don't like and i don't want to hear about you spending more time with them than me. i guess i've been up to the same sort of stuff. i'm so sick of the suburbs and the city and the beltway and long straight roads that go forever in the cardinal directions. they feel slow and when i drive on them and i feel too quiet. the malaise sets in and my eyes glaze over and i lose track of where i am. driving on those roads makes me want to go to bed which is boring but at least easy. you and me are so cautious.

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