Computers Still Suck At Random

I met a guy tonight who, without knowing a damn thing about me, told me that Cleveland was one of the most unique places he'd ever been. That he'd been there only briefly when he was twelve, before the Rock Hall even went in, but there was something different and memorable about it. That he was Slovenian, and Cleveland's got a high Slovenian population. That it sounded cliche. But.

If he hadn't been another fucking barely employable musician, I'd have slept with him then and there.

As it was, I sat around with him and his friends on this bullshit amazing night, and argued about whether Tina Fey is funny/hot, the difference between self-mockery and self-effacing, what's wrong/right with music today, how he wants pants the color of my skirt. It's the kind of conversation that only happens in memories and montages. Effortless. Engaging. Anonymous.

Nights like tonight, I think being single in a town where nearly everyone is married, it isn't so bad. I want to get high and walk the tracks straight to where dinosaurs rot into coal. To where they break rocks into man-sized gravel. I want to jump in a pool, share some drugs, fall on top of someone laughing. Nights like this aren't sexual, at least not in the way that ends in sex. Active, maybe. Full of joy, definitely. A chance to poke and prod a new person with no consequences, yeah.