isnt that the way these things go, lets forget all that, and give me the number if you can find it, so i can call just to tell her i'm fine, and to show i've overcome the blow, learned to take it well, i only wish my words could just convince myself that it wasnt real, but thats not the way it feels.

operator, could you help me place this call. i cant read the number that you just gave me. something in my eyes, you know it happens every time i think about the love that i thought would save me.

and so it goes.

songs have been important, recently, in my head. i make lists of them, about what i would mock-sing to a girl to win her heart or what song i would play at my funeral.

which got me to thinking about my funeral.

which made me realize i would have to have two separate wakes, if i were to die tomorrow, because i'd want my friends to live it up in a way i'm sure my grandparents and perhaps outlying members of my family would not find appropriate.

i'd want them to tell the stupid stories about me, about the eye of the tiger, about being a ninja, about hitting the kid.

i'd want them to laugh.

and the girl, she would talk.

and i'd want in my life to be played, at some point.

but it's somewhat silly to think about this stuff now. this is only what i want now. in ten years, i may want something different.

and, according to emily (still) i will live to be a hundred, so ive got plenty of time to figure things out in that department.

also, beautiful smile girl has still not gotten back to me, so i think that's a big fat bust.

but there's always tomorrow. and always another waitress who flirts with me for whatever reason.

one of these days i swear i'll give one of them my number. and they'll call me and we'll get together and i'll sweep her off her feet and we'll have fifty babies.

oh, the new thing my friends want me to do? go to brazil and adopt a baby and bring her/him back. in my suitcase. so we can call him/her suitcase baby. or "samsonite." whichever.