I ought not type entries late at night when I'm drunk on red wine. Singer-girl was away this weekend and told me this afternoon that she didn't really want to see me tonight. In my sober mind, this is simply an expression of wanting to spend some time alone. I can certainly relate to this. In my drunken mind however, this loneliness becomes a point of contention. I miss her, I need her, and the worst part is that I am resisting these feelings. I am resisting the urge of dependence and the urge to need. I want her so bad it hurts - somehow she got me wrapped around her little finger and she knows it.

The girl upstairs has been listening to Bauhaus and the Smiths all evening. This isn't helping me much. The bass pounding through the floor is soothing though since I know the words and quietly hum along to myself. I finish this bottle of wine and the little sandwich I've made for myself before I head to bed.

I've gotten this ICQ program to work on my laptop and spend the evening hours idly chatting with people. The instant reaction communication medium is fascinating. Email is sometimes instant but you usually wait hours or days for a reply. ICQ makes it seem like the world out there is that much more realistic. Bizarre.

Dean