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Stream of Consciousness

Mitch is playing Tom Waits. Tate's washing dishes. My Aunt Gayle loves the floor here. So do I. How did I get myself into such a situation where I have so few options? Part of it was the work scene ... Texas Justice was a really solitary gig ... research, really ... and didn't give me an opportunity to meet more people ... especially people with similar outlooks to mine ... Film Office was fun, and Matt and I swapped stories then about trying to figure out how to turn work friends into outside-of-work friends ... and I wonder how much Antioch is to blame ... I was pondering this earlier as I sat writing in my notebook ... I mean, this school basically sent us out on our lonesome for six months out of the year ... how many co-ops did I spend sitting in coffee shops writing in my notebook? So why am I surprised that it's still the thing I'm most likely to be doing at any given time? Wish I'd spent more of that co-op time learning how to meet people. There was one night ... I was here, and there was this guy who I've met a few times, and he was sitting alone at a table and I decided I'd be social, so I went over and sat down and tried to talk to him. Big mistake. It was like I wasn't even there. I said I'd come over to be social for a moment, and he was like "Un huh, great," and then pulled out a fucking book. Sheesh! Now, maybe this guy is just a schmuck, or maybe he just really doesn't like me ... who knows. But it was like "here ya go - learn your lesson about trying to make new friends." Feh.


( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 29th, 2003 05:50 pm (UTC)
All I can say is his loss/
Nov. 29th, 2003 05:58 pm (UTC)
I'll stream my consciousness some more
He's actually the person I told you that story about last night ... about what a small world it was because I was telling a person a story about him, without knowing that they knew him too, and then a month or two later, I found out they knew each other ... or, wait, maybe I wasn't telling you that story, maybe I was telling that story to Daryk the day before ... There was a moral to the story, but I've forgotten what it was. I'm trying to stay in touch with the people I met in jail. I'm trying to chat up the people here at Quiet Storm, but instead I've just become one of those sad people that lives their life online. No offense. Heh. But seriously, it does concern me that I'm sitting here in a room full of people, and yet I'm staring at this littlle glowing screen. I want to get out of this rut. I want to get out of this funk. I want to figure out what the fuck to do next. Ian is saying "I don't smoke ... I don't smoke ... " I don't know how comfortable I'd be uttering that sentence just yet. They keep futzing with the lights. Where's my scarf?
(Deleted comment)
Nov. 30th, 2003 07:44 am (UTC)
Ach, even.
Nov. 29th, 2003 09:17 pm (UTC)
Definately his loss.

Nov. 29th, 2003 10:31 pm (UTC)
Probably just grabbed the book cuz he can't talk unless someone else already wrote it down
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )

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