With my CD player broken, I was admiring the radio transmissions from the 10pm slot on most radio stations until about halfway down I-25, when I realized that I needed some time to think, and turned off the radio. The soundtrack for the rest of the drive: tires over pavement and air wrapping around the car.

Take a moment and seperate the word "impotent" from anything sexual. I need a job and my parents proceeded to really grill me while I was home about finding one, although I couldn't seem to convince them that I was already stressed enough. I know that they love me but it's a burden at this point. I have a few new ideas as far as jobbage, but we'll see what happens. It's a frustrating search, as some of you know, but it has to happen. It has to, especially in the situation that I'm in.

It's so sad here in Boulder right now. I have sad music to drown out my roommate and his girlfriend fighting. It's a great thing neither of them are abusive as they'd be coming to blows right now, but it's hard to appriciate this when their yelling punctuates the silences between the songs. They're a good couple, as conflict is a part of any (healthy) relationship, but it's somewhat nerve-wracking to hear. They'll be OK.

Have you ever felt impotent in actions to make someone smile, to be good, to be what they need? I can't fix everything but please god let me be able to fix something, especially something that matters to me - not just matters in an involvement way but a flesh-and-blood ToTheCore way. I can't turn my insides around in any other way than I know how. And when the fireflies drop one by one and you're left with not enough, there's really nothing left to do but look enviously at the stars with fists clenching/opening in the backyard as the sky blazes millions of miles out of reach, full of longing and hydrogen. Other stars so close around me... I should be burned but I just get cold. The sheets are new in my bed but my body is not. This morning I woke up with my fingers holding a part of the pillow that I mistook for something else. It's your call, good readers, if this is a pathetic act or if longing made physical is uncomfortable to look at.

Rrg. It's just a day/night where I can't do anything right and my intentions just trip up and tangle my feet like stray shoelaces. And it's all I can do and I want to punch through my wall or bury myself in the slow burn of sleep or dust myself with millions of particles of steel, become bulletproof. So many salvos. Just hear me through the hail of everything.

arrg,

Jared