I still don't know what to do

"I used to try to be interesting. That passed. Now I try to be pleasant and on time. That will be impossible today."

Walter Kirn's, Ryan Bingham, introduces another chapter of his life in the book Up in the Air.

I used to try to be interesting. That passed. Now I just try to be well dressed and quietly discrete.

Today's well dressed discretion is an Icelandic, Indie pop com folk band, Seabear, they chorus love songs in my head with an ambiance of melancholy and my tea gets cold in spite of their warm intentions which resonate in my head. I feel like a child with my head phones on, I know you can see me but I feel like if I duck my head, then I'm hiding and I can't see my bum but you can see my bum and you can still see me but I think that you can't, that I'm hiding.

It's out little game.

Damn hasn't this Summer sun just been shining, the warmth that it has been radiating has left me sore, sore from mosquito bites and a bedeviling humidity drained lack of sleep. It can't go on, I tell myself but the weather's not listening, I think it too once tried to be interesting but now that has passed and it's full of scorn and extremities. I think the weather's a little bit love sick but it'll steady itself and slip into something more comfortable soon, I call it Autumn, other people prefer Fall.

This morning as I was grinding coffee beans, I got harassed by a call agent wanting for me to join their wine club, I said, "noo-thank-you," she said, "what about the coffee club, what about the olive oil club..." I said no even though I have a deep rooted insecurity about running out of coffee at the most inopportune moment but I thought how dare they play on my insecurities especially when I'm listening to Lloyd Cole, singing an old Burt Bacharach cover, I still don't know what to do.

I do love that song and it's appropriate, all of those prevailing emotions that it so descriptively describes are clawed into my current state of mind.

And I'm lost and the moment's lost.

But here I am in my original haunt.

Did you miss me?

I suspect not, I've not been sleeping that well, I would have known if you did, I would have slept like a baby.

Though I think you that you should miss me just a little.

And I promise to be back sooner.