midnight grease

raining tonight. worked the night shift at the bookstore, and melancholy was definitely grabby tonight. listening to this song by peter bjorn and john, illicit texts of longing to the queen. he responded in kind, having watched the time traveler's wife and the road tonight, a mellow movie evening after his six-am-start workday. by the time i read his return text, i was listening to blue valentines. god, the blues.

i find hope kind of melancholy. i suppose i could make all kinds of fatalist statements regarding that, but really, i think the 'reason' is probably body-based. or changes every time i look at it. and i guess i need to group the blues right in with hope and all other emotions as melancholy (kind of). because they're all so transient. and in case anyone wonders if i've "lost my will to live" (without tone, this epiphany might sound alarming) i am more kind of relieved to let go of yet another shard of drama. "oh, that wasn't actually terribly important? it wasn't an epic moment sponsored by (insert preferable source of meaning or order in your life)? oh, okay. i'm fine with that."

i planned to vacuum when i came home, and then go join the queen three doors down. but i find myself desiring a glass of wine and either the year of the flood or tipping the velvet, i'm not sure yet.

i have decided to woo my new roommate with household dynamics. if i cook big enough meals, i can do some serious gnomal wooing. curries can woo crowds. consider adding okra.