Copout Entry

2002-08-21 - 3:18 p.m.

Look how lazy I am: I don't update for a week and when I do, it's something that Stoo and I wrote together years and years ago. I suck.

It's like a pair of comfortable black shoes, ephedrine is. It goes with anything, and just feels good.

Her eyes are like her conversation -- deep and inviting. While my heart dives into her eyes and splashes around in the cool, blue, refreshingness, my mind does the same with the skillfully formed conversation she offers.

Every breath gets deeper than the last. The winter air, dry and crisp as the winter air so often is, enters expanding lungs via nose. Without losing any of it's dryness or crispiness, the air fills the lungs and proceeds to reach every pore in the form of pure tingling sensation.

Some part of me must be responding in a satisfactory manner, because verbal interaction continues with no end in sight. One of those situations where, for the moment, time cannot rear its ugly, controlling head.

Even thoughts of gentle breezes can conjure the full body numbing. The mere thought of a touch can deliver the phantom feelings of a contact that never happened.

A smile briefly faces me, so, as a reflex, I mirror it. So much of an excellent conversation happens between the speaking. A smile, raised eyebrow, squint, fidget, blink, wink, stare, deep breath, glance, yawn, exhalation -- all say volumes faster than volumes can be said.

Numbness is much like being a marionette. Fingers dangle from hands; hands dangle from arms; arms dangle from shoulders; and so on and so forth.

Behind the words that we trade, above the scene we are a part of, in the ceiling that's barely visible through cigarette induced haze, is perched a low quality speaker that emits a lethargic, melancholy voice that twangs along with a worn guitar. The folksy, bluesy, country, et cetera, tune does not distract from the talk, but rather, serves to soundtrack the unrecorded film which we are both method actors in.

Thousands of hairs are dancing across the back of my neck. Earless hairs, dancing to inaudible music. Music that, surely, must be more upbeat than currently imaginable. And, as they dance, skin ripples with sensations.

As stated cases are tossed between two sides, each next word is planned like a chess move. There is no argumentation as there is no heartfelt opposition, just the outward reflections of two separate, unique entities, swinging toward and away from complementing opinions.

How distracting from conversation this drug induced glee is.

How distracting from druggedness this conversation induced glee is.

Fin.