so today, er last night, i drove a man from the dane county airport to o'hare airport, which cost the man in question $250. the man in question did not give me a tip, though. and also i had to pay for his tolls. fucker. perhaps i should've said something, but i was too busy saying "what the fuck?" only not saying it out loud, just saying it in my head. and then he was gone so i couldn't say anything out loud to anyone, except to myself. so i said "you lousy rat bastard!" to myself. only, not directed at myself. just to myself because i was the only one there. in the taxi. you know?

and then on the way back from aeropuerto i phoned k and we arranged for the meeting at the intersection of hwy 50 & i94, for to have the coffees together. which ended up taking 3 1/2 hrs. which was very nice. however, sometimes i talk too much about the x when with the k. and she gets bored.

i just read diary of the x, and seeing as how honesty is as honesty does i must admit it pains me to read it. it's none of my business. it doesn't involve me. it's something beautiful and painful and healing for him to do, to write this out, to work through this. and so i'm glad he's doing it.

but i'm not going to pretend it doesn't pain me to read it.

i don't know why it pains me like it does. it's an odd pain. can't put my finger on it.

maybe regret.