two things

well, dear readers, i'm spending this thursday just like i've spent the last two thursdays (or fridays): hungover at my desk. what's funny is that i choose to stay in on friday nights lately, preferring instead to watch a netflixed movie or cook or go out to dinner, so that i can get up on saturday and enjoy my day. instead of limiting my "going out" (or, more accurately, getting drunk on a back porch) to saturday, though, i've been staying up late either wednesday or thursday night. because, you know, that's so close to the weekend. lately it's been beers on cory's back porch followed by trips to the 'tross. last night was no exception, minus the trashy dive bar.

instead, cory and i drank strong beers, and then instead of listening to my head and going home i listened to my heart and had another drink and played "piano bar" with cory, which means trading off turns at the piano while the singing torch songs. sometimes i just love being a homosexual. when i write sentences like that, i always think about the impending george w. bush-led gay holocaust and all of the internet evidence they'll have to use against me.

anyway.

walking to work this morning i was listening to the new dashboard confessional cd. now, i know what you're going to say. i'm not a seventeen year old midwestern junior in high school girl, so i have no business listening to this cd. and you'd be right. chris carrabba, however, will always be my rock and roll boyfriend. hilary and i are friends, for one, because of our mutual lust for him. and nowadays he might be nothing but another teeny bopper punk fake-o, but there was a time when he put out the most heartfelt, earnest, angsty, wonderful music. music where you could hear his cords ripping over his accoustic guitar. before things like the mtv unplugged special, the one where you can't hear him singing over the legion of teenagers singing along, happened. before he played in arenas.

the writing is still the same, for the most part: rip-your-heart-open teenage angst. what's different is the way i hear it. it seems so juvenile to me now. even the first couple cd's, the ones i listened to literally on repeat for three months, seem so emotionally overwrought. it's as if i can't remember what it's like to feel what he's singing about, as if i've made myself grow right up and out of the heady emotions in which i used to swim.

i think that's enough to think about at 9:37am.