I AM REALLY, REALLY, REALLY TIRED...

I guess I need a massage. I've been deliberately scheduled for a double shift. Voluntary torture is one thing. I can't lie. I've been dreaming awake with this girl I hardly know. The good news is that I will go home in a few more hours. Now this brain of mine produces thoughts in a rather slowly way. I will go home and sleep, I hope you don't come to mess with my dreams as you have been messing with me while awake. I can't lie. I don't dream of you often. I've only dreamt of you once. I won't say anything because I know that this won't matter to you anymore than it does now. You must be sound asleep. Unless you went out. Since when all of this turned out to be about you? Give me my mind back. I wish to exorcise your demons this way, bruja. It's comforting though. Somehow, I have the delussional ideal that I will get to read this to you someday. Oh, well.
I am not so good at this, you should know, and I know enough to say that this is the sort of thing every great adviser on love wants you to avoid doing... immersing in your feelings. It doesn't take away from my manhood. I am sentimental but I am still very much a man. It's the man that doesn't show his vulnerable side who is most vulnerable deep down. Nah, I think that's just a load of crap. Listen, I know how these things go. They usually wear off after a while or they get stronger. If in fact does get stronger, I will have to say something eventually. Now I am not shy or insecure, this I can assure you. I am cautious. It's work and it's risky territory. I try not to make work a personal experience. I never date girls from work. I never have friends I work with. It's just easier that way. You go home and then forget all about work and miss some aspects of it and then want to come back to it again. I am running into the risk of letting you know so with my attitude towards you. You might dispise me. I do avoid you and try to concentrate hard on anything else. It's a Saturday night (which means it's already Sunday). What a sad spectacle to see all of the drunken youth pass by happily and have the fun of their life, and here I am, writing to a hypothetical girl who only exists in my imagination and working a shift I didn't want in the first place. I must get back in control. I will get back to my throne eventually. Give me a few days to digest all of this. I can't make anything out of all this mess. But it's good to give it time and distance, that way you see better. I'm gonna grab you one of these days and steal you from this world of convinience in which we rarely get to live the things we want when we want them. We are constantly procrastinating, delaying all the good stuff, I'm just tired of being and feeling numb.

Tedious Saturday into Sunday morning and back again

I got ready to the last detail last night. But when I exited my building, the rain was coming down again. I decided to stay. I could have taken an umbrella, but I didn't want to push it, for a change. Lately, when things don't go my way I stress the circumstances until they flow my way. I spent the night in seclusion, listening to music and surfing the net till I finally decided to chat. I chatted for a couple of hours with these two sisters from California. We even called each other over the phone. It's been so long since I got to do this sort of thing. I had a few beers, had the air conditioner on, and the raindrops hitting against the window pane gave me a sense of calm whenever the music would stop to change a song into another.
Today, Saturday, I cooked before heading to work. I am now working, sitting while I await the return of an officer I just relieved for his meal break. I will be working a double shift until tomorrow morning. Then I will come back in for my regular shift at 3PM.
Now that I remember, yesterday I worked out naked. In front of the mirror. It was too hot, so I let the air conditioner on the whole day. I better get back to work, to this kind of tedious Saturday evening. The sun is fading away and the night is starting to come down on the city. Oh, well, there will be plenty to do later. I called la Turca and asked her if she had received my email, and also rescheduled the postponed date for next Friday. This isn't writing, it's free association writing, which is different. It helps me adjust to the idea of writing, which is what I am, a writer. No drafts here. Ah, that poetry.com people kindly invited me to Philadelphia, along with another sixty something people for the final prize in a poetry competition. They also informed me that the poem I wrote was selected to be recorded in a cd by a professional reader. If I wanted a copy, I had to pay for it, same deal as with the book. Although at no time they said I was obliged, I felt like I should get me a few copies, just to show off, which is so good for your self-esteem.