what can we do. what's it all for. we run out of answers or any more pertinent questions right away. you're up all nite. you could go to the coffeehouse but who would be there and how does one invade a stranger without difficulty. saying i love you quickly loses dimension and you're left with the bare, barren facts- you are alone and there are few ways to penetrate into another's head, into the feelings that live them. we are all painfully unique, but it is the same things that we all feel- we just aren't very good at communicating, syncing with each others' moods.

go spleenward