Sitting with my guitar in my hands, messing around with the first few bars of Motorcycle Drive By. But let's not kid ourselves, I'd need to dedicate quite a bit of time to it. And I think I will. It's worth it.

Through the speakers, it gets past the part I can play, so I put the guitar down and reach down to pet my dog. He's been coming upstairs again for a bit now- he stopped for a few months, we think because he must've fell. I'm proud of him, in whatever sense I can be of my dog.

And as I'm sitting, petting him, "and I don't know what I'm doing in the city" comes on. And my mind does that crazy flicker thing. Where it takes a random thread and just runs with it, until the spools run out. This one makes me think of New York and the bizarre tinge that I don't *want* to go there unless... well... you understand.

I'm mixing up words a bit occasionally here. I'm writing a lot more now, on a psuedo-professional basis. So maybe I can just cut loose a bit? I've made about a dozen weird errors tonight at least, either in IM or otherwise. I'm not going to correct any problems I see here, if I can help myself.

Sometimes, there's the most beauty in our failings.

Sometimes people understand you better when you fail than when you succeed. Everyone has specatcular (sic) failures they can relate to. Everyone has burned our (sic) or lost love or hurt something or lost a chance or failed a test or doubted themselves and maybe it just makes us feel better about it when we see someone else stumble that way. Can we really be empathetic *and* selfless? Give me a break. We're only human.

And so now I'm thinking of this image, of all of us back up on that silver screen I talked about before. And with that grand motion of brilliant cinemetography, the camera swings to catch my face, moving up from where it was observing my interaction cisco. And it rockets upward, but pans down so you see an aerial shot of me in my room, petting cisco, from a height too high for this room. And you see him driving, and you see her sleeping with a phone in the oddest place, and you see him awake still and packing and you see her sleeping as well, but only just now having fallen asleep, lying sideways with her eyes just open enough to be pondering this and that and why it's like this in the first place, and then you see him, on the couch and sleeping soundly and you see her, too, but you can't make out her face. And just for an instant, with the screen split however many ways this time, that many pairs of eyes open just slightly enough, and you catch the most momentary glimpse of each of their thoughts.

How brilliant if only we could see how well we linked like this. If we could just take a look at each other, a look at ourselves from each other's eyes. If we could be notified when someone else thought of us a certain way- I know with some people, it'd just be a dull buzzing, so frequent is it.

And so that's what comes of the scene. Just the dullest buzzing and the closing of eyes, and slumber, because that's where we can all be detached and irresponsible but also safe and brilliant and successful and truly happy.

How many of your mornings have been ruined by the fondest of memories, seeping into your dreams?

"I want to be an explorer!"
"Well, that's just silly. There's nothing left to explore, you see."
"Untrue. For I'm for exploring different viewpoints, different colors and different angles. We can never completely capture everything, every scent, and every perception of everything. The best thing we can do is die trying, so die I must. But not now. That will come much later."

I want to catalog people's smiles and frowns. I want to list them in bizarre terms with inappropriate adjectives that lend themselves more towards pieces of art than anything else. And so when there's a smiling face, a nice Italian woman, with the caption "Completely discontent, truly broken" what will they think but "this is brilliant, this is genius, pure. We must throw him money."

And so that's how I'll make my wealth. By calling colors names they're not. But I'm no sell out, no. Yeah? I know seafoam green from chartreuse just the same as anyone, but do you know your crimson as your indigo? How evocative are *we*, we have so many names for these things, simply because we can experience them in so many millions of ways. And so that's what I'll explore, even if I'm the only one it's a discovery to.

And maybe, one day I'll make it back to New York. And maybe one day, you'll invent a color and join me. Because you know I'll call it by its new name and you'll laugh every time.

Happy Valentine's Day