Lost in love and I don't know much

Watched about five episodes of Lost yesterday. It's been hard to stop watching, especially when I don't have to wait until the next week for another episode. I still have many episodes to watch until I catch up. My mantra is going to be "moderation", but I suspect I won't adhere to it.

I won't be watching any episodes tonight. Spira's band is playing in Salem again (why does everything seem to go down on Friday nights? Must be because I have to get up at six the following morning.) and because I missed her last performance (she's playing percussion with her old college professor's band) I can't miss this one. I'm sure I'll have a good time.
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Kim had to steer the ship in my absence yesterday. For someone who never fails to toot her own horn, she was in the weeds for a good portion of the day and, from what I understand, was frazzled throughout it all. Everyone gets frazzled, but not everyone makes themselves out to be much better than they are like Kim does. And usually at my expense, I've noticed, which is why hearing about her ordeal felt pretty good. A bit of poetic justice.
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I discovered in my last post, the one about Kim, that it may have appeared that I was writing about her in the last paragraph. If it wasn't already clear, I'll say it now that Kim is not, I repeat NOT, the woman I was pathetically pining over. The confusion, if there was any, may have arisen over the fact that I had referred to this other woman only as "she" in the last paragraph, which came on the heels of a bunch of tripe about Kim. It would stand to reason, as a consequence of my lazy writing, that the "she" I was referring to was Kim, even though it would have been a peculiar thing switching gears so dramatically. So,I inserted a tiny paragraph about watching Lost in an effort to diminish any confusion, because, and I can't stress this enough, I am not into Kim. At all. Nor will I ever be. Well, maybe after a Rolling Rock or two, but even if she spent the next twenty years devoting her life to being my dream girl, she still wouldn't hold a candle to "her". Who knows, though, if Kim works really hard at it, she may indeed become my dream girl. As much as the thought makes me nauseous, I've learned to never say never. So bring it on Kim---let's see if we're a match!

I think I'll retire the subject of "her" for a while. I have to admit I don't feel very comfortable going on like I have been about someone who, if she even knows how I feel, has shown me enough in the way of signs that she's not interested. I do have my pride, after all. However, there's something in me that believes, stupidly I think, that I have a chance. I'm too much of a cynic, though, to let that dog off the leash for too long.

So, as I said, I'll put the subject to rest for a spell. I've been frustratingly vague when writing about her and, though the reason for it is to protect the innocent, as it were, I realize it's not exactly good copy. Maybe one of these days I'll be bold enough to make an overt declaration of my feelings for her in an act of full disclosure. And by full disclosure I mean details, people. Ah, but that wouldn't be fair, now would it? No, it would not. And if I take that road, I will have thrust myself firmly back to the days of junior high, where this type of behavior nestles comfortably between all the note passing and locker gossip. Ah, better to lay off the subject; maybe for good.Yet, here I am still writing about her. Call me Ishmael.