J is interesting in that I don’t know how to talk to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I feel young around him, I can’t click into his brain. It’s not that I feel less intelligent, it’s that I don’t know how he thinks, how he talks, where his sense of humour will take him. He’s older in a way that the auto-mimic slips off of him like it never existed. It’s unsettling, but he seems to put up with me and like my company in spite of what I feel is mindless nattering about nothing of importance. Of course, with how much stress he’s dealing with right now, perhaps someone who can take his mind of the important things is the Why behind it. I kneaded him into a rag while we watched a terrible movie, The Secret Window. He fell asleep, but I can tell you, he didn’t miss a thing. I was welcome to stay the night but didn’t relish the thought of either waking up before the sun when he does or waking up in a strange apartment. *laughter* Either way it would have been my turn to act like a one night stand. Poke at his books in the morning maybe, if I were a charactor I would make myself a coffee and drink it while sitting on his balcony. Instead I walked home. Thought about James a bit. I decided that efforts to stop by late at night continue to meet with nothing and so paused, looked at a dark window, and kept walking. Apparently he never got the little candies nor likely the notes I’ve left. Walking down the hill in the park on 2nd, I thought for a second how nice it would be to be lying there in the dark with him talking. We could stare up at the stars and maybe in among the bad jokes about Elvis and how Pornstars would make good cheese-spread he’d might tell me something I could do to make him feel better or even when he’s coming back.