Growth Chart


Oh, dear, I have been working.  Not day-dreaming at all like yesterday.  I don’t know if I like this hurry up and throw words at a page thing I’m doing.  It feels very…crappy…for both of us…like I’m taking meeting minutes or something.  Not a joy-drenched exploration of the soul, or even an acid-tongued litany of slights and suffering I have to endure in my middle-class, ultra-hyphenated lifestyle. It’s making me ponder the necessity of doing this.  Sigh.  Much more thinking must be done before we alter the schedule officially.  Certain things will pass and I’ll turn it all over in my mind again and come up with a completely different conclusion.

Speaking of taking thought, I think that you are going to become a you for the amount of time you’re currently taking up in my mind, particularly after-hours.  You are going to be addressed, sir, if only because I am trying to come up with other things to talk about now that I’ve sort of mentally decided to not write about work here anymore.  Or at least, to reduce the amount considerably.  Maybe I see these people as a bit more human.  That’s awful to say, but my former co-workers (thinking about it, that still seems bizarre to say) were larger-than-life, I needed to say to somebody, what the fuck is going on?  WHO DOES THAT? Our office dramas are still new to me and they feel a thousand times more rooted and legit to go blabbing about on my personal blog – they’re also external to our group of people so there’s a lot of context I don’t know and can’t give. Now, also, I feel like everyone around me is competent and I’m the one who has to get up to speed and look sharp and organized and I hate that my desire to do that right now is basically nil.  Because of games, of course, because of the time of year, and because, of course, obviously, of you.
Another dream that they couldn’t air in prime time.  All this astral touching going on, a girl would start to get some ideas.  This is just how a good crush goes. When you’re just enamored of the way someone says a word, as though no one else has ever said the word with such pathos and wit and subtextual seduction.  When you think the fact that someone’s fingers work, that they have hair on their head, that they can spell and like history means something particular to you.  When you take all your rational thought and set it in a plastic box so you can see it, reach for it if necessary, but completely mute it.  When you just think, but for distance, and my complete absence of self-esteem, we could totally date.  We would get on like a house on fire, if but for the fact that only one of us knows the other exists.  Perfect limerent situation.  No chance of rejection, no chance of requiting. Completely despairing if I think too hard about where I get my kicks from, but so long as I get them kicks…

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