A Quiet Evening.

After the caffine rush ran out, I got home and promptly crashed out, fast asleep.

Awoke to the sounds of Angel Season 3, and joined in for a couple of episodes.

Having chosen to forgo UG this week, and failing at convincing several different folks to hang out...including the rents, I just went to the movies by myself.

Saw Shaun of The Dead. Fun flick. That's going on my list of must have Zombie movies. And it even has a "message." Of Sorts. Well, it does. Yes. I'm sticking by that. Just go see it. Enjoy it. Don't get too squeemish. There is blood, but it's funny like.

Stay through the credits if you a George Romero Fan. You'll recognize...something...


After the movie let out, I wandered around Long Beach for a while. Drove myself through second street, onto Ocean, and then to Shoreline Drive. Popped in by Shoreline Village, and wended my way down the bike/walk path. I found my usual spot, and found a spot on the rocks, looking across at the Queen Mary.

Sat for a moment, and thought about stuff. Friends, family, lovers. Thought about money, and work, and hobbies. And smelled the salty brine of the ocean. I closed my eyes, and listened and just was.

Lapping waves on the shore. Quiet. Calm. Even when the wake of a boat passes. The sigh of the ocean as the water hits the breakers. I know it well.

I walked back towards the car, past the drunken frat boys hooting, and the hoochie girls screaming about their boyfriends hooking up with some girl or another. Last call makes for interesting sights in Long Beach. A much different crowd than in Hollywood. Much different.

Got in the car, and made my way up Shorline, to the 710. Got drunk dialed by Drew (snuf_daddy), and we exchanged "You drunk Bitch!" a couple of times, and then he was called to the dance floor by The Postal Service.

I turned Tom Waits back up, and rolled on home.

There are moments when I can quiet all the noise in my head, tune one out, listen to another strand, prune that one back, get that one down, pick that one up. Tonight, to some degree, was one of them.

I don't really talk to myself, those times. It's actually one of the few times that my internal monologue is set to on as the default. Though I will, should the moment prove right, just talk to myself out loud, as if acting out a scene. Mainly, arguments with myself. It's all really purposeful, actually. Have to hear it to be real. Vocalization and realization, or some other such bull shit.

I'm only crazy when I want to be, you see.

The moon is waning I think. But my heart is trying to wax...