...it comes on forever and ever...

Last night in the city, it wasn't my city. Couldn't have been, because suddenly you looked up and we had stars. Toronto doesn't usually, but last night we did; you looked up and it was so clear and gorgeous outside, you could count all the stars, and Orion was there, and his belt. They twinkled, too.

I finished reading the Alchemist. It was Joe's favorite book, and as I was reading it I imagined how many times he must have read it, and you could see the many ways he was influenced by this book. The importance of following your Personal Legend, the faith that the universe will conspire with you, that love is the Language of the World. I didn't cry, I think that would have been an insult. I just sighed, wished him well. Missed him for two seconds, yelled at him for three (because, in the end, I'm selfish and he did leave us, after all), then went to bed.

Further, Billy Corgan and I are clearly meant to be. His poems are a search for music. Also, he likes the work of Edna St. Vincent Millay, and says other poets hate him for it (you're not supposed to like her poems). I love her poems. For the record.

...clearly.