I am feathered by the moonlight...

I'm sitting outside one of the cleverly named coffee shops on campus.
I am eating almonds. Someone told me once that eating almonds is a
good way to center the soul if you've been feeling uneasy about
things. (*editors note: I made that up. Almonds are good.)

This Counting Crows song is playing: Murder Of One. Great song, but
not a hit, and not one you'd expect to hear out side of Freudian Sip.
(I would have gone the other way with it, Freudian Dick. Sometimes a
sip is actually a dick. Nevermind.)

Back to the song. It has been the soundtrack to, but not the
inspirations for two mini catharsis. One was on the 405 yesterday. My
deciscions are never the best decisions, but they are the right ones
for me. And then the other today. For being independent, I'm pretty
dependant. I always need aproval/encouragement from other people,
sometimes from people I don't like. About art, thoughts, choices,
pants, bedroom tactics, my moustache.

If I keep hearing this Counting Crows song I might be do something
bad, like develop a conscience. Or buy a house.

On an unrelated note, I found myself to be repeatedly making eye
contact with a woman across table area. Some dude just sat down and
put his backpack on the table. Her face is behind the backpack now. I
just got cockblocked by a backpack.

(chelsea said yesterday I hadn't updated in a while, so this is for
her.)