boogie with stu

i'm laying on the floor of my apt, still revelling in the fact that i have a place to call my own. yes my bed is empty but i like it, need it that way right now. i had this dark cloud following me last week and it wasn't until the x from four years ago called that i put all the pieces together...the most recent x, had sent me an email last tuesday. first communication from her since i had laid it all out a month ago.

and no, i didn't get any mail forwarded.

*

the underlying theme in a lot of my classes at OSU was the significance of the "other", and especially the theme of "why do bad things happen to good people?"

it was the mid 90's, what did you expect?

and i find myself thinking about these things, a long time and distance removed from them. there was a point in 2002 where i thought i had it all together, but i self destructed. i also rebuilt myself, tho, but also destroyed everything in the process. i lost literally everything this past year and am still recovering from it.

*

chabon wrote about the disease of writing in the beginning of Wonder Boys, and while i think he got most of it right, he missed this: you live to write, or you write to live.

but again, maybe that's what he was getting at.

laying on the floor again, listening to ryan adams, whiskeytown, on a mix cd that i guard with my life. "so i started this damn country band. 'cause punk rock was too hard to sing"