Sing me something soft, sad and delicate

I'm back from Mississippi, and I am proud to say nobody died.

I also got to see Memphis the hard way. On Saturday, we missed our train out of MS, which I had nothing to do with. (I realize it's catty, petty, and childish to say that, but its true.) I blame the fatty, fried and relatively instantaneous food pit stop. As we saw the train pull away, we plan to head it off at the next stop. Three hours, one daylight savings related freakout, one pill, one massive nicotine, several involuntary face twitches on the right side of my face, and one state line later, I am gazing at the lights of downtown Memphis, Tennessee through a train window, sipping a delicious vodka tonic.

I decided I'd like to go back to TN under different circumstances. I'd like to see what Paul Simon saw in Graceland. I want to take in downtown Memphis from outside the car.

In other news, I'm manning the turntables once again. I know it will be a beautiful reunion. I can't hardly wait.

This just in: four months later, we're talking forever.

From him, 2:46 AM: so yeah it'd be ever so lovely to be with you for as long as you'll have me

I can't help but think about sex. Not just in the horny early 20s way, but in the sexual satisfaction psychology sector too. If one were to enjoy being restrained or even knocked around, I'm curious as to what it would implicate about their inner issues, why that would trigger pleasure for them. Part of me has to learn that not everything has a motive. 98% of things do, though. This is why anarchy does not agree with me.

I want to be disinherited from my shyness that is criminally vulgar.

Furthermore, I need to start making peace with the fact that I want to start collecting MA and MFA degrees. I can think of three that I want already, but I have a phobia of the word thesis.