Huh?

There's nothing I like more than reading myself write. I mean, if it's funny. Or smart. But usually I write somewhere between "shut up" and "what?" So...

Um. Tonight I've been enjoying (read: drrrriiiiiiiiiiinking!) Jameson (and also the last of some Jack). I abuse parenthetical asides.

Anyway, in a fit of sentimentality, I perused myspace profiles of old beloved friends from some other life and then I realized: hey, interested is interesting. So goes it with: loved is loving. And when I thought about it for a few minutes, I realized (again) how much I miss some key figures of my little life, and how much it'd be beyond all my dreams to have them all around, if maybe just for a minute. Or afternoon.

That's not the point, though, as we're all well-aware. They're there at that point in your life for a reason, none other, and maybe not again. Yada yada. But man. I have a lot of funny, brilliant friends to appreciate.

So, whether it's this Jameson, or soothing sounds of Sufjan Stevens, I'm sentimental and in love with you.