sounds, sounds, sounds

ugh. I wish my butt was a little bigger/fatter. There's almost nothing to it, and it goes to sleep constantly. Then I have to shift around all over the place all the time, and I look like I have restless leg syndrome, or maybe tourette's.

I no longer live in Denver proper, friends. I'm in Littleton, home of the Columbine shootings, living in my friend Brian's house and cooking dinner for him, and also cleaning his bathroom. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever own my own house and have guest bedrooms and guest bathrooms and guests. I don't think so.

And I have been listening to nice, nice sounds, sounds like Sixpence None The Richer, and Jimmy Eat World, and choral music that I don't know much about, and some indie acoustic folks from down under. I want you all to know that I take extreme pleasure from the palindrome area in the last sentence. And other things that are nice are my friend Brian. I wish he loved Jesus. Or had any desire to know about anything spiritual. But he doesn't, and that is the end of that, and we will be friends anyway. And right now even he just said, in an endearing tone of voice, "I'm so glad you came to stay with me. I'm sorry you have to go so soon." Which is really two weeks, and plennnnnnty of time, and then I will be a hoosier again, but to him it is too short. And good grief, that is nice to hear. I don't even hear that from people who love Jesus. Maybe it's nice because he isn't obligated. Sometimes I think about the witch from Into The Woods singing, "You're not good, you're not bad, you're just nice."

And I really hope she isn't singing about me. I know a lot of people that she is singing about. And I don't want to be a nice person- or perhaps merely a nice person. I would rather have nice be an accessory, like a purse or a slap bracelet. Like that pink, sparkly one Tai Mauney gave me in college, when she told me I was a real woman.

Tai, I still have that. It was one of the best gifts I ever got.