i get secrets at night
earlier:
i was reading on this train trip home. my new friends hand and will have just arrived in estonia. im insanely jealous. that�s the one place in the world i want to visit. so i�ve stopped and now i�m writing. i�m savouring this book, making it stretch out for as long as possible. my train is snaking its way past the airport. i have to hold myself back. otherwise i�d jump off at the international terminal station and buy a ticket on the first plane that could get me into europe. i�d worry about a connection to tallinn when i go to heathrow. or wherever. half the fun of travelling is the randomness of having no concrete plans.
the carriage stinks of bourbon. i breathe it in deep and close my eyes. it feels like i�m breathing it in from some boys breath. it�s that smell, of bourbon mixed in with carbon dioxide that reminds me of proximity to cute boys with dark brown hair. it�s intoxicating. not in the way that my BAC is rising. but it�s alluring. not the drinking, but everything it represents. i�d love to be sitting in a pub right now. drinking beer, but smelling bourbon. not even the slightest bit drunk, just happy amongst good company.
instead, i�m taking an eternity to get home to an empty house and i can�t really go out cause i have to work early tomorrow. but i have stopped drinking as part of my new diet. who knows how that will go. i�m ready, disciplined enough to change my eating habits. bring it on. but im giving up coke and it�s going to be hard. and i don�t drink [alciemahol] that much anymore. but i love to let go occasionally and now that�s been taken away from me.
when i get to glenfield it�s cold and i�m under dressed. my fingers go numb which reminds me that it�s midnight. it reminds me of my small country university. so i call my dear friend from there. his voice is warm and everything is good.
18/04/2004 00:50