Lately listening to that American Analog Set guy/Death Cab for Cutie guy split EP. Listening to it on headphones, and it's the kind of music that was meant to be listened to this way, the whispered words fading into your ears feel like the slightest, most perfect touch, like a hand grazing your arm or a kiss on the neck.
Thinking that this is the most physical contact there's going to be for awhile, which should seem like a bit of a relief, but it isn't.
Last night I had so many dreams. Not the standard run of the mill nightmares about ax murderers or rotten teeth and lousy haircuts, but ones about shopping for hoodies and late night drives that go nowhere and the apartment in Berkeley; things so simple and prosaic that they felt more like real life than anything does while I'm awake.