Thoughts at 2 a.m.

It's really fucking cold here tonight, yes, really fucking cold, below freezing even. Not cigarette weather at all. ::sigh:: I really have to quit.

I've got my insomnia on again, although I admittedly induced it by going to the 7-11 tonight for my 20 ounces of Obama. (Someday SpellCheck will recognize the word "Obama" and not underline it in red dots... Huh. It recognizes McCain. Odd.)

So other than screwing around with spell-check on Mozilla, what else am I doing? Well, principally I'm thinking about how lonely it is here now that I've alienated most of my old (former?) friends. Interesting to see my home town with eyes unencumbered by old alliances. But still very, very lonely.

So, I'm thinking about loneliness.

And then I start thinking about G., my ex, who lurks somewhere along the DC Beltway. Should I email him? I wonder. Or would that just be inviting Hell into my kitchen? I haven't heard from G. in close to four years, he may not even have the same email...

What's the policy on gratuitously starting shit up with ex-boyfriends? Do I get bad karma points for that?

Raining in San Liberal

I checked the weather tonight in San Liberal via Yahoo and noticed that it's raining there. Finally, rain in San Liberal! I can imagine the brown velvet tinder-box hills starting to tinge green, the sigh of relief from the glacial hill near my old apartment that was long tagged with the red flags of fire season.

Winter-Spring-FIRE!-Fall: the four seasons of San Liberal.

I'm homesick for it tonight, sitting here smoking in my apartment, trying to come up with some sort of idea for NaNoWriMo. The electrochemistry novel won't work--too much research. I have to find something else to write about, besides the old axiom of "writing what I know".

Although, it could be said I know San Liberal.

But I think that would be too painful.

I left someone behind there.

More on that some other time.

I also know Hometown, NJ. I could write about this place, this disappearing place, getting eaten up by suburbia in spite of the housing crisis. At the county fair grounds, there's a bench with an engraving that says "Save Our Land". I have a picture in black and white of a young agrarian with strong arms, back to the camera, leaning against that bench. It moves me to tears when I look at it. Not even the strongest arms can keep out the developers.

::sigh::

Smoked my last cigarette. Maybe I should try quitting.

Going to stop rambling now.

I'm imagining the sound of rain on the pavement, the damp California air, the fog, all floating through my open window as I lie tangled in the arms of my (now former) lover.

I'll never get to sleep tonight.