Yeah, I know. 4 days and no updates. Would you believe me if I said it's for the better?

It's not like I haven't had anything to write about. I mean, May and I drove around south county with the windows down and the radio blaring in the hopes that I would see LBC somewhere besides the library, I spent many hours at the diner with one of the coolest people I've met in a very long time, just talking about politics and life and K, and I have many Big Plans for the future which I'm sure you're all dying to hear about.

I just couldn't put it all in words.

Plus, Howie is acting weird and I'm scared that he is sick. I don't think I can talk about it too much since I want to sleep tonight without crying first, but I'm worried. If something happens to that duck, I will fucking lose it. I still haven't talked about Luke and that is because, a year later, I still blame myself for what happened and don't think I could write a whole entry without hating myself all over again.

This sounds melodramatic and I know someone out there is thinking "But I eat ducks." Yeah. I don't care. I've said it before, I see no difference in dogs, cats, ducks, or rabbits. Which is why I don't eat them.

OK, that was an odd paragraph. I don't really feel like explaining anything and come to think of it, I don't have to explain anything. If you've read any part of this journal, you know that I love my duck.

I should mention that Howie is well enough to mount things, particularly my mother's arm as she tried to examine him for any cuts or hurt feet, so maybe I shouldn't be this worried. But I am.

Anyway.

I saw LBC on Sunday. He comes in, I'm answering some of the world's stupidest questions, he smiles, I stop mid-sentence to say hi, the end. I swear, triple fucking swear, that I was going to talk to him as he left, but unfortunately for me, Florida's lead contender for Scariest and Most Toothless Son-of-a-Bitch was just standing in front of me and staring. I could have ignored the man since he wasn't talking, just staring, and said "Hey, cute boy who always smiles at me! Come here!" but the dueling banjos were just too loud and he probably wouldn't have heard me.

I spent the rest of the day boycotting any form of work and staring out the window.

This, among other things, is proof that I should just talk to him already before I slip even farther into L-O-S-E-R.

But, you know, I just can't. I have no idea what I should say and, even if I did figure out that wonderfully witty and cool thing to say, chances are I will be so damn busy that I won't get a chance. Because I must have stomped in God's flower bed in some past life and he/she hates me.

I really want to talk to him.

Back in the day, when I had a crush on a boy, I would make him a mix tape. Except I had already established a friendship with these boys and the mix tape was just a way to talk without opening my mouth. I didn't put, like, Rollins Band's "Love Song" on there, over and over or anything, but it did make things more...familiar. Am I making sense? I can't explain this too well.

You know where I am going with this, don't you?

In my head, going up to LBC and handing him a tape "just cuz" seems like it would be a good idea. In my head, mixing gin with lime Gatorade also seemed like a good idea, but Jesus fucking Christ, was I wrong.

So I've been thinking about this and then I had to go read Jeffy's diary and his most recent entry. I'm thinking, "Shit, if someone handed me a mix tape out of nowhere, I would be pretty goddamn happy." Creepy, my ass. It's an honor to be the recipient of a mix tape.

Now I'm thinking maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. I mean, it's not like I work in the only place in Florida that sells water or condoms or something. There are dozens of libraries. We are but one in a slew of many. He doesn't have to see me once a week. Shit, he should know my schedule by now, too. He could totally avoid me if he thinks I'm creepy. Yeah.

Fucking A, man. I need to stop thinking so much and just DO. Yeah, I'd probably have a lot more regrets, but at least i could say that I did it.

Someone needs to slap me. Hard. On the ass, if you're kinky.

I'm going to sleep now.

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