there's no need for that particular title, just listening to the elliott smith song of the same title at this moment. not exactly my choice, just on shuffle. and that's the way it is.
so what do you do when yr boo that you really need to talk to but he (and his whole office) is swine flu sick, so he's been sleeping since three in the afternoon so you can't talk; and a few hours later you get the news that you need to have your left boobie looked at again? but yr not worried cause she thought it was the right one initally and both you and her official second opinion did not feel anything abnormal. you are not worried because the left one you know has had a benign cyst there for 6 years, but then she says the magical words "asymmetrical" and then yr like. um, yah. sigh. there are no words when said left boob belongs to you.
you go on a 20 mile bike ride with your friends. in the dark. in the chill. up the hill. with unknown others.
up the hillies, past the paprika colored bridge, past more hillies, look up at the stars wondering where the meteor shower was merely 18 hours earlier, through the woods, by the ocean and back again to where seeing cars and red lights and the maze of streets that seem so foreign to you even though you encounter each obstacle multiple times each and every day.
we go. drink beer. eat fried seitan (yummmmmmmmy). chat w/ the unknowns. run into girl who this one likes quite a bit from another time and place.
come home. take shower. listen to elliott smith, girl in a coma. yeah. that's i think what this one does.
and tomorrow is another day. and in 4 weeks i will have another procedure. and i do believe that is all for this muthafuckin' hump day. sleep is quite needed. for maybe a month.