getting up grey

Slept a long time. Odd how you don't realize just how tired you really are. Strange dreams, of hunting for artifacts. A sword, a cup, a small offering plate, in these subterranean passages beneath a movie theater.

Watching the news, with its overly dramatic music and recycled footage. Doesn't seem as showy as I remember the Gulf War being. You know I really do feel sick at heart, remembering how I joked Bush would start a war to be just like his daddy.

Grey sky outside. Keith gets cranky in this weather, because it reminds him of grad school in the north. I should visit him this week, we both have been so busy this semester.

This anthrax situation in Florida is just weird. Weird.

did you see that?

Last night at work I had one of those moments. Where you think you see someone and your heart stops beating for a moment, you forget to breath and everything stops. Then the person turns and the world starts going again, and it's not that person at all.

I saw someone who looked like John, my blond inspiration in high school. For some reason after he left with his programming books, I wanted to ask his name, talk to him.

Haven't thought about John in awhile. I wonder if he is still in Italy, or if he is back at his university in Oklahoma. If he is still making those collages of words, those sharp edged sketches in the margins. If he is still as wild, still as sharp and fast. God, I miss him.

Where do these feelings come from? Are they always there, waiting? Do they bloom briefly like my hibiscus plant? What is it? Why did that pang tear into my heart last night watching that boy walk away?