now, how does it feel?

ah children

time is just memory mixed with desire says the great tom waits. and boy is he right.

i am officially 4 days into my 21st year now (or 22nd i just never managed to work those out anywho) and last night for the 4th time i celebrated my birthday with a lovely group of friends. i do have a lot to say i do really but this heat is choking me up and i seem incapable to put pen to paper but i'm slowly getting my wings back--been listening to good old bobby the way i used to for the last few days without resentment or weariness just the way i used to before all this not being able to write thing came up and last night was fun and beautiful from seeing familiar faces toast in my name to seeing my childhood friend to getting drunk to holding a pretty kitten in my arms in the middle of the night (you can only do that in this poem-like city) to feelings emotions and all that jazz and all was wonderful and all made me realize that there is one single purpose to all this struggle the only thing we're in vain to give or receive and we read and write and hope and try to find that--and that is love--and life is nothing but vague backdrops in a gigantic on going desperate struggle to just get love


i looked around scared last night thinking i was the only one who noticed that

me and possibly jim.