eighteen august
seven : fifteen p.m.

so i'm sitting there, leaning against the wall on my right, my foot braced on the ground so i won't slide off the chair, singing along to "lucky" (live in vancouver, june twenty-fourth) with my eyes closed, and everything feels very limp except that one foot, and i start thinking that if someone opened the door and walked in, i wouldn't hear them, i'd just keep leaning and singing and leaning and eventually the song would end and i'd have to stop leaning and open my eyes and i'd see them and wonder how long they'd been standing there and what they'd been thinking that whole time.

i guess that wouldn't happen. no visitors here.