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half finished thoughts and half lived lives

muddled thoughts that come from insomniac nights chased by caffeine-riddled mornings. I had all intents to get to bed relatively early last night, only to find myself obsessively checking boards that aren't occupied and listening to the same damn live version of E. Smith's "Twilight" about a hundred times. I could excuse myself the time if I had moved past speculating the best method to produce a portfolio CDR and actually begun work.

KT came into the other room. I laid shivering from a draft staring at a blank cable screen since I can't ever seem to get InDemand anymore. I had a hood up over my head, and I must have looked pathetic. KT cried for me, which I hate, because it makes me feel like there's something that's more wrong., worse than I think is the matter. I couldn't/can't/won't sleep not because I'm internalizing my feelings, but because I lazily ignore them. OF course after the episode in the den, bathed in the light of those ugly beige Mediacom menus, all I could do was internalize all the shite that I've been attempting to avoid.


It's Ash Wed. I suppose I might go to Mass this afternoon (after the US Men play Trinidad on ESPN2) I haven't been to church since the wedding, but while I liked the exposure, there's something hollow and unappealing to the Protestant experience. I love the intimacy, tradition and imagery of the Catholic Church, but I think marrying a protestant girl may have made me a Xerox of my father. internalized faith with an urge and desire to return to the church but too much self-consciousness to attend by ones' self. Maybe I'll get the bastard to go with me one of these days.
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