...life goes easy on me...

An hour of introspection revealed nothing new. The same old generalization that I am essentially just fucked up, at the seams even.

The most important thing for me in the next week or so is to remain calm, and display some self-restraint. Today I was self-restrained, mostly - only the smile which broke through occasionally unprovoked, unannounced, and uncomprehended by everyone except Iman demonstrated any breach of control. I'll try to keep this restraint and control even in the face of soft touches and sweet references to old jazz.

Pfft. I can't be bought by old jazz. Can I?

There is a strong probability that I will not be attending a single class this week. I haven't yet, since Monday - the academic swing still hasn't been found. The music swing certainly has though, and I am going out again tomorrow night. This is getting to be a habit. Not a particularly healthy one. Really, there is a very simple solution. I just have to stop meeting cool musicians, who's shows I must go to.

*sigh*. I want Barcelona, and all that implies. Or rather, all that Justin wrote about it. Smell of roses and cocaine. I want mellow, like the playlist on my computer. If my head could only stick to that largo rhythm. Earlier this morning, the frightening sense of my head having a pulse, and racing out of control. I couldn't contain my thoughts, or make sense of them. Scared to death, I lay there for half an hour like that, missing class in the process.

I haven't been having a good day/week, not really thinking. I make little sense at the best of times, so you can predict how comprehensible I have been lately. The people I need are absent, it is very irritating for me. I will not be okay until they show themselves, and that looks increasingly unlikely until the 17th of March and a plane from distant lands which will bring me a girl with black hair/pink highlights and a funny accent. March 17th seems very far for me.