(no subject)

I have cheese and crackers on a plate next to me, with some thin sliced pepperoni and onion blossom horseradish dip. I could happily live on cheese and crackers for the rest of my life, if I were forced to do so, but only if I could switch up the kind of cheese and cracker that I had to eat. Right now I'm eating some terribly pungent New York white cheddar (extra sharp) and harvest grain Wheat Thins, but I could very easily change that to farmer's cheese (polska) and saltines.

Last night, Joanna and I ran gleefully through a heavy rainstorm with the cheering of strangers in my ears. A bartender offered me a giant pile of napkins to dry off with and I attempted to make myself look presentable, hoping that the rain had not caused my eyebrows to pull a vanishing act. The rest of the night was spent with Malibu rum and diet Coke coursing through my veins, catching fireflies off my drinking companions' arms, and toasting the birthday of my co-worker with endless shots of some Irish whiskey who's name I can not remember. Flicking damp cigarettes over the ledge of a balcony, discussing the finer points of Paul's hand in the spread of Christianity. Drunk ethics and giggling discourses on genital shaving.

I leaned back in my chair and dizzily watched the night sky, marvelled to myself that this was the most human I'd felt in ages.