Saw the Strokes last night, who were damn good live. I was in a moshpit for a while too, strange experience. The heat was stifling and the sudden relative physical intimacy with complete strangers was comforting somehow except for all the groping and sweating.

And there was something about the lingering sensation that you're going to fall and become trampled and unable to ever get up again that was disturbingly familiar.

Today has been quiet.

So quiet that after that I have little else to add.

Such is the summer of 2004. The heat digs at me a little, and I retreat into the familiar comfort of the literary world.

I hate how much I use those words... I want less familiarity, less want of comfort. Less being in sloth mode. But I've lost all the energy again ... I think it's the drugs, I don't usually gravitate towards my vegetative state for this long, or do I...

I dunno, someone wake me when this week or month or world is over.

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