2002-03-27 1:42 p.m.
moving on

Good morning, how are you?

I'm surprised at myself. Life is moving quickly on without S., as sad as it is going back to that place in my mind where memories of her still echo � an empty bed, photos, the red shirt she loved, the many altered states we were in in my house, the warmth, the comfort. Part of me feels like moving on quickly cheapens it all somehow, and part of me wants, for the first time in my life, to deal with it as I go, not as a separate phase, disconnected from all else.

She and I are still talking and emailing sporadically, and she sounds good, better than I am. I look at myself and feel slow, rooted, sad.

The Empire (that is my family's, not Star Wars) has seen better days. Mom is hitting rock-bottom after her boyfriend left her, Dad's business is in its consistent downward spiral and his eventual marriage is looking more and more like a noose around his neck. If you plotted their trajectory on a map, D. and I have guessed (some time ago, in fact) that they're going to re-intersect because, like Rob and Laura in "High Fidelity," they're just too tired to not be together.

D. and Rachel seem to spend all their free time in the house, restless but unmoving, watching movies, playing video games � they might be doing other things, but I can only say what I see � and the whole while breathless, waiting for something to happen, for the gun to go off, signalling that it's okay to now drop everything and move, that it's okay to stop living this life. For all of their "freedom," they both seem trapped.

And me? I've just gotten my first freelance Web work in over a year, ever since being jerked around by a banquet hall in Brooklyn. And despite being tired a lot, which I attribute more to not exercising and eating crap than to depression, I feel pretty good. Old escapes don't feel as welcome, and my mind just keeps drifting forward, not back. (Rachel discovered my videos of "Crusade" (the Babylon 5 spinoff), and has been watching all of them...and while it's interesting for a few minutes, I find myself wandering off and finding something else to do.)

My own restless energy is booming back to the top again, instead of being smothered by the emotional exhaustion of the last few months, and that feels great. I'm dreaming again, always a good sign � had a dark and breathy fantasy a few nights ago about a co-worker, someone I've never thought of in that sense (she's got one of those neverending boyfriends) � and for the first time in a long time, words are coming, and I'm writing them down.

For the record, though, I think the break-up was a mistake, that we could've worked things out. That's the main reason the memories sneak up on me and take bites out of my happy days. But it was her choice. Ta-ra.

I was talking to Jonathan, one of my college roommates (and a juggler by trade), and when I mentioned that I was thinking of moving back to Georgia, he wondered why I would. I felt that, if everyone in my life is leaving for some reason, maybe I should be back where I am surrounded by people. I didn't think about (and he reminded me of this) the fact that people have moved on my absence, have changed as people, and quite possibly don't remember or care if I came back.

Hail the king of humbling statements.

It's true, though. Also, part of me feels that moving back would be running away from the challenge that achieving my goals in New York represents.

(Also, I'd have to buy a car. Christ, what a nightmare.)

It still left me sad...just another reminder that you can't count on people, on the whole...that personal relationships are Here To Go as much as we are, and perish with the slightest inattention, or even with careful attention.

All of this fills my head, and I'm going back there in two weeks. I think of Georgia and I feel happy to see the place again, but I have a feeling the people, old friends and acquaintances, are all going to wash before me before we all have drinks in our hands and realize that we have nothing left to talk about.

Maybe that's not true. Either way, I have to go, if only to enjoy some time by myself and away from here.

listening to R.E.M. bootlegs at work (if you like such things, look online for 10-23-01 @ Groundworks, Seattle) and now an unreleased track from their last album, I can safely say that Michael Stipe's just like everyone else: full of a front, and just wanting to be liked. "Fascinating," if you're of an inclination to find it on Audiogalaxy, is really beautiful, uplifting, and sad...a space-sound ballad with a very pretty piano line.

"If you just could speak to me
Just throw me a line
Give me just a little nod
You are fascinating
I can serenade

We could throw this party
And take off on our own
Find our own higher place and
Odyssey back home..."

Not the sentiments of a rock star...part of why I've always liked the band, lyrical moments like that, open and exposed.