So, as slightly alluded to I think in recent writings, I'm going through a little waiting game right now in the romance/love interest area. And thankfully, I can discuss it a little bit because I've kind of discovered I can't mess this one up by voicing anything about it out loud (not that my superstitions previously about love life disclosure have been right either). Because I'm involved in a momentarily star-crossed (but I trust not forever hopelessly star-crossed, because it just doesn't feel like it) situation, I today expressed to the co-entangled, writerly that I am, that at the very least all this waiting and subsequent love lettering could produce a nice both-ways romantic letter-based opus a la Sartre/de Beauvoir. However, it would decidedly be modernized with plenty of Jesse Ventura and Steve Guttenberg references and a fair number of bad specially-effected explosions.
That's about it for now. It wouldn't be my life story if there weren't a fair amount of existential suffering, so this is just how I roll.
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