2004-03-11 - 5:11 p.m.
Inspired by this weeks p-o-y
I don't wish on stars much anymore. A few months ago I looked up and saw the first star of the night. I wished for a playmate to take away some of the loneliness. Nothing special, just someone with the same interests as me: model trains, obscure poisons, 19th Century literature. Nothing terribly unusual. It was within seconds of uttering that wish that I saw him for the first time. He had many of the same interests as me, it is true. Perhaps he is just a bit too like me. I don't know how much longer I can stand him, with his made up stories and his exaggerations and his journal full of flights of fancy and his long, lumbering syntax and diction.

No, I certainly don't wish on stars anymore.

Reading Rudyard Kipling stories & the Tower of Babel story from The Bible
Wishing I could see more stars from where I live. They keep "going out"
Plotting secretly. You'll find out soon enough.
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