In an apartment across town, an older man, nearly twice the age of my young friend, sat on the edge of his trim leather sofa (nice design-esque edge). I'd begun to wonder why I was going across town to see him, begun to wonder on my way, as chill soaked in and hills veered up and all that happens when crossing these narrow streets alone so that nothing reveals itself or ever looks familiar. I knocked my clutch with a toe and kept going but the wondering didn't stop as I sat in his apartment talking to myself while facing him. We had dinner and with the table appearing in full dress in the role of itself, there was no beginning and no apparent time to go.

There's something that makes you decide to do something, or not, we discussed. I went there and stayed for hours and was calm about it and then decided to pack up and go without being completely sure of such an option. When obvious choices get confusing, does that mean something is right?

I used to be afraid of myself, I taught myself good reason at every opportunity. Hell, I'd like to take myself to task right now if I could figure out the first step. We know we're not at all worth it, in particularly me, but wanting is for proving it again. The good news that I've ferreted out today is that there is good magic- It's just rare and difficult to keep. Perhaps it's hidden in the back of little shops where people keep things that should go to the next good soul, if shops like that had any hope these days. Also that there is a place called Alky and you can go there whenever you want to go- They don't speak interesting second languages there or wear pretty clothes, and the traditions are somewhat counter-intuitive.

I had a healthy fear of myself, I trusted myself far enough to know damage might get done. It's been a long time since I won a fight, though, or broken anything fun. I'm like a cake batter in a vintage tin that can't even get properly baked without ruining everything. The best fun I've had recently was dragging someone inappropriate, practically by his ear, home with me. Remembering is pretty good. What happened is that I went to go home, because soggy batter always just oozes to the floor, and went to give a hug. The hug went fine. As I stood there he asked if I had gloves and for whatever reason there could be I stepped right on in for another one, to ask myself to consider my instincts afterwards. In the back of my mind I hear a girl's voice saying 'it was true,' but in my experience, nothing easy is every true. Only sometimes the pieces fall together in a way that does not make you sick. I like teaching myself the easy lessons myself.