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Okay. The Egg has rescheduled his birthday, which is both a relief and weird. I'd like to move time around like that; I can think of a few days that need shifting. Thirty days, and I have my doubts. It will be fine once the sun starts to set, but those daylight hours will involve a lot of ducking behind pillars and abruptly turning my head, I'll bet. People always remember me, and I'm pretty certain that they only do because I don't want them to. Also, I'm old all of a sudden, and I might be too old. Jackpot gave the other one my email address, and it's a nightmare. Listening to small talk is bad enough, but to be made to read it is killing me. I could just ignore it, but I'm afraid that might be mean of me. Everything would be easier if I could just decide to give up on trying to be a nice person altogether. Really, it's starting to feel like it won't be a matter of making the decision so much as it will be an inevitability. Single-eyed, single-hearted, single-minded. I think I'm just waiting for the right sentence to come out, and it's playing hard to get. It's working; I want it even more. I had it hours ago, but other things got in the way. They always do. Is this really July? If I had a year of Octobers would I learn to stop wanting it when it's out of reach? See, my mind is everywhere. Thoughts keep jumping in and out. Like the fact that I really like the word shambling. I think of a shambler as having tattered trousers. Like the fact that I think it might be that I only have nightmares in the early morning, around five o'clock or so, after I've woken up once and fallen back to sleep. Is it meant to keep me from trying to sleep longer? Does it matter? And right now this is the best song in the world. "Billy, bring your gin..." I am all ideas. Champion ideas. Tomorrow night will make everything perfect, at least for the hours that it lasts, and more than that would be too much to ask for anyway.
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