Monday, 28 October 2002 | Hour shift

Looking back over what I said is like watching a horror movie. In it, I'm the main character, and I can see myself walking steadily toward the haunted house, pushing open the creaky door, and walking into the trap. I plead with myself not to do it, to have foresight, to change courses, but the girl I'm yelling at is deaf and stupidly determined.

Tonight I don't feel like living alone. Right now I want a roommate, someone with whom I can talk and maybe cook, but not make plans with or set aside a chunk of hours for. I want it to be easy and thoughtless with my imaginary roommate, because I want to be thoughtless.

It feels so much later than it is, just because we have collectively decided that winter should be dark. Moving the clock back is only good for one day.