Sinister: you've been go for some time, but i fear you'll be here oh no again

[lindsey baker]

hello sinister.

i wasn't planning on posting again so soon, after my gigantic (albeit 
probably rather confusing) last post. but today, i am craving the sound of 
keys typing, and i cannot write enough to satiate the need.

i think there is a reason i have chosen sinister to be the victim of my 
wannabe-literary torture, and it is a small and simple one.

today, i crush-voted.

this was the second time (hi owen.) i have wiped my plams on the thighs of 
my faded, cuffed jeans to quell slippery fingers and sent the little, 
near-empty email body to the elusive miss crush. waited with baited breath 
for the password. diligently typed in the necessary combination of words and 
address and pushed send, noting that hotmail sent it off with lightning 
speed.

i have said before that democratic loving is problematic, and perhaps it is. 
it leaves you feeling suspended, nervous, sending a message of something -- 
because it is most likely not love, but a liking, an infatuation and an 
actualization of tangible hope -- out into the void, where it will land in 
the unsuspecting lap of someone you have most likely never met, and may 
never meet.

maybe it's someone who puts words together in such a fashion as to make the 
world stop turning, make the harsh, detached glare of a computer screen melt 
away, make you feel like the internet is really only a big gathering of 
people waiting somewhere in a long line, shivering because it's probably 
cold, clutching belle and sebastian tickets for a pending show. and the 
words wrap around you like the big yellow blanket you slept with as a girl, 
used for a cape when brandishing a hot pink, plastic sword and screaming 
'she-ra, princess of power' at the top of your lungs in the freshly 
cut-grass of your springtime backyard. and then. you say something. under 
the guise of an invisible middle-man gone matchmaker, and you wait, i think, 
not necessarily for the proper response but rather a response of your own, a 
feeling to become felt.

i am still leary of crush-voting, though i love getting votes. i love the 
small streak of happiness that usually overrides my morning 
oh-god-i-have-to-face-another-day streak of nausea, and i keep them all, 
though i usually never find out who sent them to me. i question them, i 
think, for the reasons sent. maybe the intentions behind them. because when 
i send them, i suppose i never quite know what drives me, and i have never 
been able to pinpoint the exact fluttering feeling i get when i press the 
mouse button.

but the feeling is a good one.

and today. i have become misty. the blinking cursor is waiting for me to say 
something of importance, but all i can say is this:

i got a match.

xxx love, lou



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