Tortoise and Tchaikovsky

Bah. No way out. I'm trapped in my own dream-world.

I can't listen to that Kate Bush album I got a couple of days ago anymore; at least not for a week or two. Its making me too hyper. I put it on, and all of a sudden I can't sit still, I'm pacing around my small rented room, my thoughts going in a hundred different directions, none of which are going towards the reality around me in anyway. For an hour or two afterwards I can't read anything. On the plus side though, I have started working again on an old fictional story that I started about a year ago. I was very inspired for a couple of days, but then I realized that I had no idea what I was writing about, and therefore had no idea where the story should go. Now I have a clearer idea (not clear mind you, just clearer) of what I'm doing with it. Something to do with the cult of masculinity, and the pain and control that is necessary for it to exist.

I'm listening to Tchaikovsky and Tortoise now. They are both very calm, and though I wouldn't call them cold, I wouldn't say they are hot, or even very warm, like Kate Bush is. They inspire me, but not to the point of distraction, and so they are safe for me to listen to in my....how shall I say....delicate condition.

As far as Dolphin goes, there is no romantic future. I feel like a weight has been lifted from me, or maybe more like... my glasses were dirty, and now they are clean, and It's much easier to figure out what's going on around me. He is a very interesting guy though, that I feel very warmly towards him. I hope that he will become my friend. Also, I hope I will get to mess around with him once or twice more.