middle of the night

woken at 2am by stomach ache and a strange feeling of dryness

wonder if downstairs roommate has on heater and the dry is rising into your room into your mouth into your stomach

think about the few glasses of wine had with best friend, in which you are trying to express frustrations and forks in the road and looking for a little guidance

but he is in one of those moods ...maybe it is his favorite thing "shadenfreude" or maybe he's just in a goofy place and can't be reached by my own turmoil and instead pokes at it to see if it bites

it does

but interestingly, in the midst of it, one of the things he says is interesting. something about me being an editor not a writer. and he doesnt' really mean waht i do here. or stories at all. he means, he says, that my greatest moments of insight and the moments when i shine happen when i come to them through insight into another person. wheni call somebody on their shit, or see what somebody really is saying or feeling through all their own woven story. that my prize skill is in weaving something out of somebody elses 'shit' as he said (story ? i wonder?) and not in producing my own . (story? shit?)

or something like that. he was having a hard time putting it into words, and it was vague. he said it like a revelation he was having right at that moment. and i wasn't sure if he was admonishing or admiring

but i knew exactly what he meant.

anyway. my belly hurts and i should go back to sleep.

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