another pretty day. another few hours left before i head to work. the long commute into manhattan, out at 42nd and 7th and into the crowd of clueless and slow walking tourists. last week, i found myself in a huge crowd of kids and mickey mouse. surreal…42nd is surreal with its disney and porn.
i guess i should be resting but i found myself getting up every 10 minutes to change the radio station. radio continues to suck. too many commercials and talk and not enough music.
ah, well. at least they didn’t cancel Moonlight. i need, seriously, i NEED, my fix of that gorgeous vampire. it’s a silly show, but silly is good sometimes. an escape from reality is always good.
ah. right now, they are playing Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. and sometimes, it rips me up inside, this song. because i remember. i remember. and no amount of wishing to the stars will make it so.
i see myself a little more clearly. i was standing on line at the grocery store and this young guy was standing behind me. he was close. i could feel the heat radiating off of him, and i could get lost in that. i moved away like he had the plague. and that’s where i’m at. mentally, physically, and emotionally walling myself off and away from men.
and this sucks.
but i find myself not having any fight left in me. i’m tired. and i don’t just mean physically. i’m running on automatic. blind. tuned out. is this middle age? or just hurt?