-Ryan Adams

So how many more times can I keep coming back to the pre-sleep haze and expect it to save me? As if somewhere in the sleepy sifting sands of sighing or cross-section tapestries of touch that I should be redeemed, hallelujah, upon my knees on the floor of any church that I had visited in a flurry of Europe...

It's 30 minutes to midnight and I'm almost certain that I'm sick with something. I didn't go out tonight because I wanted to stay home, drink fluids, get better. "Better" is subjective. What can I do? And it's odd, the things that bring comfort to me. I could hear her listening to Soul Coughing today. She gives me laughter that I feel more rewarding than a medal or piece of paper...

Me. Yeah, this journal is all about me. Would any of you care to go deeper? Would any of you like to know what I'm afraid of? What I want more than anything? What makes me so angry that I see red? All of these questions have answers. Give attention to what question you'd like answered most. I think it speaks more about you than me.

"Now you never show that to me, do you? But remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah..."

-Jeff Buckley, again.

I can't say that I'm a "deep person" because I have no comparison as far as knowing people in and out. I never will. But I would love to think that I'm more than what you know me as. Not decietful, you understand. Just more. Just dig into me. Ask me things. If you don't want to learn me, then maybe I'm just not that interesting to you. There is no incentive. You don't get published if you figure out what makes me catch my breath. But I wish the knowledge was enough. For some people, it is. These people... thank you so much, more than you'll ever know. We hold hands in the human experience, I suppose. That grip can be slack or tight, but any touch like that means more than the world to me. It's more than togetherness. And that word, the word past that adjective, hasn't been invented yet, but it burns on the edge of my tongue and for some reason I don't know how to tell anyone it except for the replacement word, the word that will have to stand in for whenenver someone comes up with a fury of letters that embraces that experience:

love:

Jared

"tonight, your'e on my mind... so. you'll never know. Broken down and hungry for your love." -Jeff Buckley "lover, you should have come over". And the side door is open. Whatever that's worth. PS: "You left some stars in my belly."