"This time of night I could call you up..."

Last week passed by in a nauseating blur and it's not the type of week I want to think about. I was regrettable in a number of forms, especially in work and in a few other areas. But in the effort to live more or less without regrets, I'll try to see last week as a series of events worth learning from.

If I'm going to be honest with myself, one conversation spurred some relative thoughtlessness, and absence made the heart grow darker, though not harder, and fonder, but I wouldn't want to admit that and I wish the last qualifier weren't the case.

I remember the first time I heard "The Start of Something." It was my most played song on iTunes for at least a year after that moment. Depending on the moment, it brought me to my knees with longing and to my feet in indie, song-belting glory--if that exists, and circumstantially, I think it does, especially on karaoke nights. But Voxtrot isn't exactly mainstream enough for Harvard Square rock-outs. Nor is M83, as was identified earlier this evening.

Strangely enough, after only two months here, I feel like I need another new start. The new apartment I'll be occupying as of Saturday might help with that, though the family help with moving in might do more to set me in the past than anything else. I don't know if I've gotten farther away or closer to what I see myself as having come from. Physical geography can only do so much.

Adrift again, I drift to sleep.