The Boy Looked At Johnny
October 22/23, 2002. Late night.
For Katie's birthday, her and I went out to Waffle House
and drank a lot of coffee. Now I'm sitting here vibrating.
I'm at mom and dad's now -- I was really jacked up and
looking for Nate, hoping he'd be around, but he's not here,
so it's just me and KaZaA. I'm playing the Stranglers, the
Platters, Tammy Wynette, New Order. Dickey Lee, "I Saw
Linda Yesterday." Weird.
Also, I'm thinking. I guess it's because I got a lengthy
email from her today, but I'm thinking about Jessy, mostly.
How I miss her. How I feel about her. How easy it is to
talk to her. I feel so guilty. Like I haven't valued her
enough. Or maybe how I haven't appreciated her enough,
perhaps. Or second-guessed myself so much. I don't know.
It's so strange. This one doesn't feel like the other ones.
It didn't while we were together in Pittsburgh, and it
especially doesn't now. And I don't mean that "doesn't feel
like the other ones" in the traditionally uber-romantic way
that expression is often used. It's difficult to explain,
and I've done a singularly lousy job attempting to do so in
these pages. Basically, it just feels like dating a good friend,
actually. It's easy, it's fun. But I feel guilty about that. I feel
guilty for wanting more than that, and I don't know if I'm OK to
think that, or if I'm completely selfish to think that.
And that's what I'm thinking. Dennis said the other day that when I
have something, I want to give it up and go after something else,
something that I don't have that probably isn't obtainable. He was
talking about bands, but he may his assessment may be applicable in
other areas as well. I think maybe he was right.