The noise of the night.

It’s late and I’m up all by myself, reading Christopher Golden’s The Gathering Dark. I have the living room all to myself, and I’m able to blast music (through headphones) on repeat without fear of my SO being disturbed. No singing and dancing, but I’ll settle for volume.

My soundtrack for the night–as it has been for the last several days–is a set of BollyWood tracks from a podcast I’ve started listening to. The ‘cast is hosted by two folks that sound like 12-year olds with crushes on each other, but the music is amazing, and there hasn’t been a song they’ve played that I haven’t liked.

I’m so restless tonight. Summer-stressors, self-induced or work-related, have come up, and I’m moderately frantic in dealing (or not dealing) with them. Avoidance and dancing away from the issues are the solutions of the day.

I am so restless. I want to go run. I want to stay up all night with a friend (hell, even a favorable acquaintance) and talk. I want to dance. I want to wiz through novels. I want to cut fabric and sew up the shorts I bought a pattern and fabric for this past weekend.

…Hmm. I think I’ll go for the run, and hope there aren’t any boogeymen out at 01:30.