[nothing in my life is significant enough to warrant a title]

currently listening to: ben folds. melancholic and restless and lazy all wrapped into one. my new friend and housemate Mike is listening to sad French music (is there any other?) and he's in a melancholic reverie with wistfulness and nostalgia. i bike out for pizza: i don't feel like cooking. i lie on Mike's floor and we listen to Rufus Wainwright and Sigur Ros and other rainy day music and a CD Mike's friend Amanda made covering a bunch of other cool songs. we still feel sad. i think of that feeling of long road trips, when the music is playing and everyone is looking out the windows or reading a book or snoozing and drooling on their neighbor's slumbering head and somehow, without speaking, there is complete fellowship. and the sun is shining. Mike remembers how France is warmer with more sunshine and he used to walk to school every day. Mike thinks that I shouldn't let women get me down. He makes me a CD with all sorts of cool, artsier-than-the-shit-on-the-radio music. tomorrow i return to my square-peg/round-hole job. i wonder if one tomorrow-in-uniform will stack on top of another until i stop realizing that my deepest conversations during the day involve the price of donuts and which hospitals have the prettiest nurses. Mike looks forward to school this winter like doing time in Siberia. I don't think either of us wants to be here right now; I don't think either of us really knows where we do want to be.

but the music helps.