Eight hours of talking with Fred later, I notice it's five in the morning. I call the dialog to a close and pop the TV on to give me something to watch while I finish the sushi I jammed in the fridge eight hours ago.
It's still good.
I know because I can feel my gut churn in that good way. I pop on the computer and as my monitor powers back up from sleep-mode (my monitor is vastly superior to me in this regard) I notice the IM from Rose telling me she loves me.
High Fidelity is on TV.
I think of my old boss, how much he liked the movie, and how much I hated that he liked it. I think of how apropriate it is to watch a movie about love lost and found and lost and found again. I think it's ironic to play this movie on the Comedy channel. I wish I had someone in my bed so it would be warm when I eventually sentence myself to another few hours in it.
Milk doesn't go with sushi.
I love them both, but they just don't go together. Is it sad when your diet describes your sex life? I only wish it was the beer talking. I hate writing more than two lines that start with "I".
I guess it's time for bed. Fuck.
Posted by Matt at December 7, 2003 05:20 AM