Tuesday, January 27, 2004

Tonight I'm up at IHOP, when I should be in bed. Crazy where my car will take me when I step on that tiny pedal. How do you know when you've been in one place for too long? Is it when you know the words to every random song played over the intercom? Or when you have a "regular," and know every server and manager on a first-name basis? Maybe it's when you'd rather be there, talking to near-strangers and chainsmoking than be at home.
I know every name carved into these old tables. I have comforting relationships with the chain-mailers, the anime artists, the pool sharks and chess champions. Where do I fit in? It doesn't matter. I'm here anyway.
This booth smells of old cigarettes, mustard, and cream of crap soup. Disgusting. So why am I here?
Me and this pen and paper: we're a team. This is my place. This is where I belong.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 21:54 | |