There must be something magical, not magical, magical is a word left over from fairy tales.

There must be something special, no, not special. Special sounds like there's something different about it, not ordinary, they're ordinary not special.

There must be something...not in the room itself, but in the people. The lighting might bring it out, or the drinks, the coffee, the chocolate coated biscuits, the cigarettes, some intensity bigger than us, that makes us think for a moment that anything and everything is possible. No, this makes it sound like the room. It's not the room, it's the people.

Our friends across the street offered us Mexican takeout tonight, because they're going to Paris for the weekend, and Mexican food is hard to come by. We started in idle conversation, switched gears to music, and two of us ended up side by side on the couch with revolution on our minds.

What makes a concept an action? When can I take something to heart and say, "I'm tired of talking about it, I want to do something about it." Maybe it's my getting older, or the fact that next year is a clean slate waiting to be filled...but so help me, I'm going to do something this time. Maybe it'll be small and bit-like, I don't care. It's a year of progress! (it sounds like propoganda.)

No really, I consider myself affected. Much like the numerous Tom and Ilse latenight conversations ranging from education to vacations to Vlaams Blok, there is something good in that small little light-like feeling I get when leaving a livingroom discussion--Like I'm better for it. That all around the world people are sitting in sofas much the same, driving on long roadtrips, huddled around tables sitting in booths at Denny's...coming away from it open jawed, head burning, and the night just not long enough.

It's like the non-christian form of a night with God. I should know, I spent many a night with God, and I could tell you stories of trembling, heartbeating, face pressed into the carpet, teary eyed, sitting in a blank room, sitting in circles discussing text and feelings and realness, and necessity, absolutes, faith and chances. And walking away from a room thick with God you feel something...and you leave it open jawed, head burning, and the night is just not long enough.

So what to do? Read more, respond more, give change, do my best, keep track, write down, love my girlfriend...and someday the affection will lead to result. If not this year, next year. If not next year, I hopeI will live just long enough.