I know there's little things about me that would sing in the silence of so much rejection in every connection I make.
A Comprehensive List of What I Want at 7:41 pm, January 10th, 2003:
I want to see the Counting Crows live.
I want to hear a car door slam right after I disconnect from the computer.
I want the plant I've almost killed to pull through.
I want Cosmo to quit whining.
I want my mom to find happiness, even though all she's found is grief.
I want my laundry to be magically done and put away when I wake up tomorrow morning.
I want to feel some energy tomorrow morning.
I want everything I own to find its own box, get into it, and seal itself up.
I want to stop finding pieces of my past put away and hidden in boxes and files.
I want a cup of coffee on my nightstand at 9 am tomorrow.
I want every cool thing I've ever said memorexed.
I want next week off.
I want a stack of 12" X 12" canvases, the kind with the 2 inch side.
I want someone else to figure out how to get a trailer hitch on my car.
I want someone to run my life for the next two weeks and then go away.
I want some motivation.
I want a warm bed.
I want to quit pretending my pillows are something they're not.
I want a beer.
I want to take this song off of repeat.
I wanna be the light that burns out your eyes...
I wanna be the last thing you hear when you're falling asleep.
...Good Night.