Just give me some obsure person

The day is pleasant. It's warm, as to be suspected on December 3rd in Santa Cruz. But the sun is specially held without much wind. I am at LuLu's reading the Brother's Karamazov, totally delighted here in the corner. Another run-in with Joanne, here at LuLu's and we chattered together. All a tickle in this flat-line establishment made of ipods and loptops. This is the steady sit-down spot. A place for each their own self-absorbed projects. Words are flutttering in my head and this is the best way. I am contagious to myself here.

But let's talk about my propensity to be consumed. Today, I will champion this as I exit stage left. Today, I put down my unhelpful inclination to lean. The line feels slack (almost too familiarly) but today I don't need to check the pulse. I don't need to make any kind of heap out of this.

I have a fever and wild talent for naming things: cars, kitchen objects, my computer...I befriend a gross amount of entities--even wildly becoming close to inatimate objects. I found my Christmas Tree yesterday, pacing through the Tree Farm. I was beside myself to meet it, delighting in its personality and knowing the quarkiness behind it, my fat, plump little tree. Eager to name my new tender and scared tree--So heroic and pathetic at once. So if I indear to these unassuming objects like I do, then imagine how I feel about people: it is even more vast and precious! Just give me some obscure person--I will love them, I may even love them heroicly. And in no naiive way. I will be stricken by all the parts to their perforated soul, with all the more respect. (my severeness will nod.)

How my appreciation for them becomes so concrete is besides myself, but there it is--flinty and relentless. somehow spreading mysteriously. On my fingers like chalk. Of course, the chalk is on my elbow. and inevitably there is the chalk on my forehead.

I simmer with the potentials that relationships lend. The characters I become enthralled with. My uncontainable glee that people graft in me, however gruesome or handsome they are. (How I love a man with a long face!) However insignificant that person seems is of no event to me. With my insatiable hunger for some conquering rendezvous, or better, yet another immature episode of mischief with uneventful corners, readily new no matter how played or what age we have passed.