her birthday, my gift, and... WOW, this post got away from me

jules and i had conferred by e-mail a while ago about her birthday, and i asked if we might be able to talk, at least for a little bit, on her birthday. she called me when she got home from work yesterday, just about the same time as i got back to the hotel. we talked for 20 minutes or so. i did the typical "hanging up on her by accident because i tried to transfer to the bluetooth she hates so much" thing, so i called her back. it was good, we both agreed, to hear each other's voice. i'm not sure what more to make of it until we get to SLC. there were things i forgot to tell her, and others i just didn't to maintain the conversational comfort level. i can add those to the ongoing e-mail i'm writing. there were a few awkward pauses, but it wasn't too bad. my mind runs a million scenarios a minute (i should be a quantum computer), and i've run a few already. some good, some bad, based on minutia of the conversation, timelines, things left unsaid and whatnot.

she says my mind is an amazing thing. i don't agree so (see above OCD-esque paranoia, fear, whatever-you-want-to-call-it). i'm not a normal man. my mind is torturous, convoluted, and overly analytical. it's a painful thing i carry with me everyday. it wakes me up, puts one foot in front of the other, breathes involuntarily, and randomly breaks into pictures, scenarios, yearns, theoreticals that threaten to tear me apart incessantly, all the day long, until i force it to sleep. it's a confused and scared thing that doesn't know what to do with it's free time. i'm not a normal man. i write and write and write what i want to say but don't know if i should. i want it to be read but don't know if it should. it lives the songs i hear, directs internal movies, writes the saddest stories of all time, and then destroys them... no one needs to feel that. my mind is a looping trainwreck. i'm not a normal man, but i try to fit in with them. they suggest things i just cannot do. they suggest things that i may have to do in the end. that rarely bothers me, but in certain situations, and i don't know, if i was asked, if i could be. i play sad songs when i'm sad, because i want the hurt to bring the tears that won't come. if i hurt, i keep picking, there can be found a euphoria buried deep in there. i'm not a normal man. i don't believe normal men feel like this. the drink or fukk the pain, the fear, away, i think they have to have another way of coping that i don't have. i'm barely functional, if all men were like this i think the world would nearly stop. i'm not a normal man, i'm not normal, i'm not.

i always thought it was ok, but i'm tired of feeling like this. distant sounds good, cold would be great, detached... amazing; but i've been dealt my cards and played them this way. no do-over's in this game. can't change the past, and THAT is the essence of the chaos theory. i'm not a normal man... a month and a half ago, i was OK with that. since then, my mind hasn't been so sure. it's not an amazing thing alone. maybe i'll make a poem out of the "i'm not a normal man" thing.

that's not to say the conversation was bad. it was great. i wouldn't've traded it for the world. i need to figure out a way... anyways, now go listen to jeff buckley, he was a genius. perfect for a time like this. free spirits stay free, no matter the waves and the wind.

last goodbye

hallelujah (probably my favorite)

lover, you should've come over

lilac wine

i'll sing...



doesn't that sound like some emo teenage angsty stuff? lovely.