B minus 7

I first remember seeing her at Cyberstache on New Years Day, maybe five years ago? I was with my ex (who was my ex then, too), hanging out, when this gorgeous, tiny sparkly person with an illuminating smile walked in . As I recall, she wore a black strapless evening gown and gloves (not that I was surreptitiously checking her out or anything). I kept glancing over, wondering why she was alone, and sort of wishing I were, as well. I distinctly remember a sense of disappointment when a big, stocky, Italian looking guy showed up, and she smiled at him.

Breaking news

This one is one to watch. Just plain wow.

(no subject)

I am addicted to words, written more so than spoken. The internet only exacerbates this problem for me; I spend time hopping back and forth between email accounts, as well as checking lj, for contact and/or information. Instant messengering is a faster form of the drug I need, and I use that when and where I can as well. It's not the constant flow of information, per se, that I crave; information without context is largely meaningless, at least to me. It's the contact, the sadly pathetic drive for finding or building a context, a community, based upon the written word. I'm beginning to feel like a throwback.

Invoking St. George

Off to face my fears. Wish me luck, gentle readers.