When I haven't slept or eaten I sometimes get a bit... flaily, I guess. Not limbwise, but wordwise. That's been my today, or was until the clouds came in, and now I feel soft and subdued and as though I could very well be dreaming all of this. I'm not likely to make it downtown tonight. He said, "It's an open invitation, anytime you want."

People have been good at making me feel special today. A present for no reason, a present so strange it seems like she invented it, the man at the newstand with his, "Anything for you, sweetheart," and a CD full of the prettiest songs, and, oh, I love the cover. And an open invitation. And other things. The shark pen and the seriouslies, and sometimes talking to someone can feel a bit like having him talk to you, and it feels so warm.

Daring, daring, daring. Or maybe a bath, and a bed, and a book in my hands, and the next thing you know here comes Sunday. That could be daring enough for now.