It’s 3:30am, and the birds are chirping already. Don’t they know it’s still dark out? I was just out there, it was fucking dark.

Tonights ride started with a comment at the prefunk about how I was the subject of much gossip. That was all there was to it though. Few people in Point83 approach me on a personal level, as opposed to a social level. So that probably acts as enough of a moat to keep the noise down.

I kept my drinking to a minimum. When we ended up at the 9lb, after I while I started feeling sad, so I left and stopped by the show at FBK in search of friends where there’d be some mutual happiness about each other’s company. Leaving 9lb was weird, I left half a drink there, I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.

Found J & J at FBK, saw some other acquaintances. There was much appreciation for me having some dry ice left over from Russ and I fucking around with it on the ride, with which I made a little smoke machine for the band. J said my ex-girlfriend was stupid, because I’m awesome and have dry ice. Being drunk aside, I could tell she meant it and appreciated it. It’s flattering having folks like you when you feel left alone. The show ended, and with recent neighborhood weirdness FBK went quiet for the night. J and I went to his house, stopped by my house to refill, then over to the Hen House for a bit of an after party. It was a small enough group everyone sort of knew each other and I’m too tired and sad to be working at making friends right now.

J made a comment at FBK about how fucked up it was that everyone was happily singing along to a song that was inherently sad. It’s doubly fucked up with relationship drama, but that all aside, he was right. It is far too easy for us to rationalize away feelings.

A girl at FBK asked me questions about my ‘leather-people’. “Oh, my leatherman, oh, wait, I see what you did there.”

Bike camping again this weekend. It’ll be nice to get out of town.

J and I talked a bunch about relationships and heartbreak, moving from sad house to angry house, the tragedy of running away from good things.

Every email I get, every text I get, I want it to be from L. If I was fourteen I might think it pathetic. I own my feelings now, at this age. It’s sad that they aren’t reciprocated.