I don't particularly remember last week in great detail. What certainly did happen after my last daylog is that I spent Wednesday night at the apartment of the oject of my desire again. I went home sometime, probably after midnight. Thursday night was the night of dinner and The Red Violin. I called her while she was working and told her quite clearly: This is me being decisive. We're going out to dinner tonight. I felt pleased with myself when she replied simply with Okay. She got off of work, changed her clothes, then stopped by to pick me up. I took her to The Olive Garden--nothing fancy but nothing so plebian as take-out--my treat, and had the great misfortune of being seated next to a table of ten or so drunk, white trash pigs that were so loud we couldn't hear each other talk most of the time. We laughed it off.

After dinner we went by the grocery store and bought something to drink; if you've not had Harp beer, you might want to try it. It's not as balanced as I like, but it's very smooth and quite good. When we got back to her apartment, she put on The Red Violin.

Let me tell you, The Red Violin is great. I enjoyed the film very greatly, except for the pale, sickly appearance of Jason Flemyng, both nude and clothed. About the time the violin reached China, the phone rang. Rather than stopping the movie, the object of my desire went to her bedroom and spoke there. At first, I thought she had gotten off of the phone as she went to the restroom, but she did not return to the living room. I waited, and could hear her quietly talking. I assumed, correctly I would later learn, that she was talking to her boyfriend. After watching twenty minutes of the film without her, I decided that it was time to take my leave. It is unnerving, uncomfortable, and awkward to sit alone in someone's dark living room. I put my shoes on, paused the movie and walked to her bedroom. The lights were off in there as well. I told her I was going home. She replied with What? Why? I told her that I was leaving because I go there to spend time with her. She asked me to stay, but I told her I could watch the movie another time. With that, I took my leave and went home. Several minutes after being home, and I mean only several, the phone rang.

We ended up talking for about forty minutes until we were both falling asleep on the phone. She apologized and felt awful. She thought herself a bitch and though I thought it quite rude what she did, I was not angry with her. Whether this is attributable to my continued infatuation with her or the fact that I understand she is a bit short on common sense I do not know; what I do know is that I forgave her repeatedly and told her she had nothing about which to feel bad. She continued to feel bad, but assuredly, she has forgotten.

Friday I gathered my things together and left for Berkeley. A very close, and very dear friend of mine in whom I find comfort no where else attends school there and lives near the campus. Being my birthday the week prior and his two weeks hence, I decided to visit him. I took the bus because I never bothered to get a license and thusly do not own a car, and because there's really no other way to get there. I arrived, I sat.

Immediately upon sitting, I noticed his gargantuan glass bong. We smoked. We continued to smoke for several hours and ate our way through two pizzas and four games of chess. Finally crashing to sleep quite sedated and very happy, I woke the next day to the sound of wind.

For those in the bay area this past weekend, it was quite windy.

We got up, showered, dressed, and went down to eat. We managed to avoid the crowd on Telegraph and returned to his apartment a short while later. We called a friend of his who lives in a fraternity just half a block from his apartment who was our meal ticket for some ecstasy. I had never done ecstasy and was fairly interested. After smoking more marijuana over the course of the day, the evening, the night, and the morning, we found ourselves in the frat house, upstairs, in a room with Geiss, loud music, disco balls, a padlock on the door, a bunch of fucked up people and a drug dealer.

After waiting about a bit we picked up the e we had ordered and enjoyed.

It was fucking heaven.

It was ecstasy. They are not kidding.

If you've not tried e then I strongly suggest that you find some and give it a whirl; you'll not regret it. It is very spiritual, very uplifting, and just fucking awesome.

I kind of blacked out a bit after that because I have no idea how we came into the water, orange juice, or candy we had. We did nonetheless. I found myself back at his house lolling on his couch wondering what the FUCK is in that stuff, because it's fucking GREAT.

Eventually we crashed and I woke the next day, Sunday, to prepare for my arduous journey back to my home. I showered, dressed, got high, got higher, smoked some more to make sure I was high, packed my things while smoking some more to go in after the previous smoke to make sure it had made it, and then smoked some more to see why the second smoke hadn't checked back with me yet.

I had Jack in the Box, boarded my bus, and--disheveled but alive--arrived back home some five hours later, still a fairly high.

I got back to my apartment and did the usual things: checked E2, checked my email, and signed onto AIM. Wouldn't you know it, the object of my desire was on. Wouldn't you know it, less than an hour after getting home I find myself in her apartment. In addition to that, I find her worried about what has happened with her boyfriend over the weekend. She states quite clearly, knowing that I brought drugs back home with me, that she really just wants to "mellow out."

I produce my drugs for her and we revel in their abilities.

I went home a short while later and found myself asleep within minutes. Monday night passed without incident, given that I was extremely tired from my weekend and slept fifteen hours, and given that she tried calling to tell me she was going to bed as well (alas, the phone was busy and she resorted to email).

On Tuesday night I returned to her home. We sat about drinking and joking, and talked about some things. I admitted I gauge her replies to what I ask her and how she replies to what I say; she took it as being that I test her. I find great difficulty in trying to explain to her that it isn't testing and that I simply do what I do in order to learn how she responds to certain things, and thus learn to anticipate her and just to plain get to know her better. Worrying about that will only cause me grief, though.

I feel so carefree.

In my stress.

That I could.








That was last night. She was also excited and combative. I'm not sure why, but it was only partially jovial to me. It's an interesting turn that I had not suspected and am fairly certain that someone has told her that I maintain an active interest in her. The only catch is that only one person that we both know is aware that I maintain this interest and he would not say a word. Perhaps it is paranoia? No, that is too harsh of a word. I would say it is more at worry of a jeopardized friendship because she feels uncomfortable thinking I desire more from her.

Today I spoke to her in person a few times. I emailed her and she myself, but I've noticed that she overlooks many of the things I do for her. I bought her a movie on my birthday; I bought her dinner and watched most of it with her two nights later; I soothed her worry of having offended (notably not hurt) me when she left the film to talk on the phone; I compliment her daily; I go out of my way not to comment on what I think she should or should not do regarding her problems with her boyfriend; I wish her a good day several times each day; I thank her any time she does something for me; I go out of my way to travel to her apartment to see her so she doesn't have to come to me. I go out of my way to reassure her that she doesn't need to drive me home, so she can go to bed instead. Maybe it's all superficial, or maybe it just doesn't mean anything anymore. Maybe she just doesn't notice, and maybe I should better direct my efforts elsewhere. Maybe I'm overreacting and expecting too much.

We spend a lot of time together. I'm not sure why I'm doing it anymore, really; she cares for her boyfriend a great deal and talks about him more than I'd like to hear given my own inclinations. I enjoy the time we spend together though. I don't work well in an atmosphere of more than two people. I prefer to be one on one with my closest friends, and this time gives me nearly immutable pleasure. We talk, and joke, tease, and just have fun. This is what friends do. She sees me as a friend. I desire her as more. What will I do if I decide that the pursuit is not worth the effort any longer? Remain friends? Remain as close as we are? Pull away? Reveal what the feelings I had kept to myself for such a long while? I will see what happens.