stop making sense

An eventful day. Many vibrant conversations: the taxi driver, whom I stole from the other taxi driver, wanting to have a smoke with him. I apologized. The man who showed me 909 Dundas Street W.--a silent conversation, to be sure--but of course the eyes say it better, with more precision. With Downes: about my paper; about keeping in touch. There was no pull towards anything outside of work (why would there be?) but he said he'd help with the writing sample. I sensed something. No, I must be mistaken...In retrospect, disappointed about my paper for Cobb. Not enough time. I had to climb out of the window. I can only hope his passion won't wane. But all in all--very good spirits. Spoke to John Howard, in hopes of getting Jay a job. Now it is in his hands. Someone will be pleased. It will doubtless be good for him. Went to the gym. Then shopping--because I felt right for a reward. A Muddy Waters album. The girl smiled when I asked about the Woody Allen selection. A golden cardigan, with an interesting button-up v-neck collar. Indie. Summer. Handed resume in to bookstore. Nothing until August. But it's a shot in the dark, anyway. Listening just now to Kozelek's "Have You Forgotten". Timeless. I hold it in my hands. The theme of the song is evidently about falling out of love, or forgetting to love yourself.
But anyway, what is love in the first? This love that we all speak of, that we endorse, historicize?
Sometimes I wonder if former lovers did me in. Closed that door. I heard Ethan Hawke say it in Before Sunset, and I clung to it--soaked it in. At the same time, mostly or always I just can't understand people in heavy relationships. What is lost, what is gained? I can't for the life of me understand the economy of human relations.