2001-03-06 - 10:06:41

Times like these are precarious.

A 20-page paper due on Thursday and here I am on Tuesday writing in an online diary. Isn't it strange the way that procrastination seems to kick off a sense of forlorn and wallowing? I mean, I'm complaining to a million people about this anvil hanging over my head and every time I think about it, this black abysmal hole forms in the part of my brain that would normally be making a conscientious effort to devote some amount of concerted cerebral action.

Al was over last night, we did a winter coat-swap. I bought this crazy winter coat from Village des Valeurs for about three bucks. It's quite cool and cut to look tapered from top to middle, with the defining feature of two pockets in the extreme rear of the coat (ie, where my bum is). But now I've got a wonderful golden-brown, courduroy (albeit thin) winter coat.

My life has changed.

Enough with the dramatics, this is March in Montreal ... I suppose this is also why K and I came together. The cold, the grey, the melancholy of winter-after-three-long-months is something that exerts such a power I often misjudge it for a more personal spiritual imbalance.

And to think that it all started off with a simple quote: "Adam, I don't know what I want from this" to which I responded, (shoulder shrug, bottom lip protruding) "Ummmm, oh...... I hadn't thought about that." Which is true - who thinks about the future on a first kiss? On a first fuck? It's ridiculous but essential to clear up.