She's A Jar. With A Heavy Lid.

We were doing a late night dog food and movie run. Fat Mike was crooning about the punk rock scene turning lame, the traffic lights winked red and yellow and our clients were the only ones left mulling about the somnambulistic oberlin streets. I thought about how simple it can be, to live, to be unencumbered by stress and moral rectitude, all of these mental contrivances that we create to get in the way and gussy up our thoughts. I wondered how far a life has to break, to get to the point where one is ushering in this created chaos. She is everything that I am not, and everything that I will never be; this statement is enough to provide the solace that is necessary to make it through to... wherever I'm making it through to. There is no reason to be obsequious unless it's all that you have, all that you know. And in that case things are more depressing than anyone can fix.

The light blinked and cross traffic subsided. As I pulled through the intersection nofx wailed on their guitars and Fat Mike yelled over and over into his mic, "I knew you were the one... I knew you were the one...," and I felt a hand on my knee. I looked over and he was mouthing the words and pointing to me between bouts of cheeseball air guitar soloing. It was too touching and I had to look away; it left me wondering why I get so frightened at these moments.

The errand was accomplished and I crawled into bed to read before we watched the movie. The next time my eyes opened it was two in the morning, and there were arms around me and a voice whispering into my ear, "I missed you tonight. I've gotten so used to our evenings together, goofing off and working on projects."

We love uncertainty. We could not bear to know precisely what the future holds.