magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

i'm pulling against a sort of gravity. it is a constant struggle, physically, to resist the urge to reach out to touch her, to curl up in her arms.

we said goodnight. she's off to venezia for three and a half days first thing in the morning. i'm in my studio listening to "pneumonia", the first single by this kid calling himself fog, on repeat, through headphones, volume on full, bouncing my feet an nodding my head. smiling.

"you can't spend the next three months sad," she said to me a little earlier.

"i know. whatever happens. i can't be sad. i don't know exactly how i'm going to fix that. but, i know."

and this is just a little fluke high right now. the music's not exactly happy. and everything's as unresolved as it's ever been. but there's nothing wrong with a fluke high.

---

i talked to george on the phone today. being cryptic because it was the middle of the day and i was sitting in the lounge and really don't want everyone in the cenci to know all the little gossip about my life. he seems to be the most adamant of any of my friends about holding on.

i'm glad i'm getting all this advice, but it still all comes down to talking with stef. and tonight was the third attempt to call her. and the third time i got her voicemail.