November 8, 2004

I want to do the exhibitionistic thing and get down in writing what the last two days were like, noder-wise, but I don't think I can. One nodermeet turned into two turned into (possibly) three. All I can really say is that, on the whole, noders are beautiful people and that we (the nynvb, I mean) really should do this more often. I have this image in my head of us getting together weekly and playing poker, drinkin' beer and reminding ourselves that a community so complicated as ours requires touch to keep it grounded.

That being said, there are some things worth sharing:

• I'm now madly in love with the Staten Island Ferry.
• chris-o truly knows his shit. like, seriously.
• Tea, apparently, works quite well as an astringent.
• Ireland has produced some amazingly beautiful people.
• Soylent Green is still made of people.
• Yoss continues to be hardcore; he now barhops across county lines.
• Then again, RalphyK does it intercontinental-style.
• Waking up to a strange man in your bed is kinda bizarre. To me, anyway.
• Smileloki, as a nickname, is wholeheartedly appropriate.
• So is smartalix.

• Having a hotel room with psychology books lining the walls is kinda hot.

Like I said - definitely need to do this more.

I'm sitting in my room, thinking, reading history essays, listening to the Garden State soundtrack. I live on the top floor and the wind is blowing in; only one of my lights are on and it's busy throwing long shadows across the wall.

I'm the only light that's on right now at 2:10 am.

Nobody gives a damn, I think, Nobody gives a damn, I feel. Lost in the night, the boundary between my skin and the cold air disappears and I am the world and the world is me. Self-less and one. There is no crime, Septimus says. Maybe if you know everyone, maybe the world becomes transparent, but you never will. I'm speaking to you at a party over dinner taking a walk in a cafe speaking online about people. In the end, life is lived alone, I think. You've felt this way before, I know.

Then an email finds its way in my mailbox, and it is two pages full of letters, words, cheering up, two pages full of smiles. Somehow the room lights up, and I am left trying to describe something that can't be described. You know that feeling, I know, and I can't describe it, so I won't.

Like so many other things in the world.

But there it is. You and me, communicating about things that can't be described though personal anecdotes.