02.05.19

2:34 p.m.

the sun is coming out.

this morning, when i woke up, what i woke up to was the sound of rain outside and muffled bass seeping through the ceiling. now, with the windows open and the shades up, the sun is starting to come out.

but still, everything's wet. even with the sun starting to come out, the day is wet. but honestly, i don't mind.

this morning with the windows open-- the cars outside zooming by with the swoosh of rubber tires on puddled blacktop-- me sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes, downloading mp3s on my pathetic 56.6 dialup connection.

and i have given up, i think. i think i have given up on trying to get this dsl modem thing to work. i've tried, with three different network cards i tried. with multiple calls to pacbell tech support, nothing never working. yeah, i think i've given up.

and yeah, definitely-- the sun is definitely coming out.

malinda and i have been watching cowboy bebop for the past couple of days. i think she likes it. atleast, she says she likes it.

she said (prefacing), "you know, i tried to not like it. i tried because, you know, i didn't want to like it just because you like it.

"but, i like it. i do. really."

and that, really, makes me happy. i'm really glad she likes it. i'm glad, it makes me happy that she talks back to the screen and says things like, "i want to see more jet episodes." it makes me happy because, you know, cowboy bebop is something that i so-closely identify with and, to some extent, represents me as an individual.

and, you know, if she likes it, that means (to some extent) that she likes me. or, atleast, that part of me.

so, i'm happy she likes it. also, i'm happy that she likes me. because, really, malinda is the best of all things.

she is the best of all things. with her in the apartment, watching things on the television, in bed and cuddling. moving my hand sometimes slowly across the small of her back, sometimes around the nape of her neck.

at those times, everything i will ever need is contained within the area created by these four walls.

being with malinda is like listening to zero 7. her touch is like warm bass.

but, god! it's two thirty already?

where did the morning go?