didn't see it coming

it's funny to read the previous posts and to know what has happened between then and now! the conversion from white chocolate martinis and dirty looks from bartenders to scotch, obscure gins, chartreuse, fernet, st germaine, campari, maraschino, a butcher, and bartenders across the city knowing my name.

hi, i'm america ::hi america:: i'm just visiting...

it's one of my last nights in this attic in davis, and i'm looking forward to central. but i don't want to be one of those people trapped in the middle -- too stubborn to sell their soul for money and too chicken to make dreams come true.

wednesday -- half a bottle of red
tuesday -- none
monday -- none

how many tonight?

none

sunday morning

i'm up at 8am. this is a first in about 5 years.
didn't go out or stay up late last night.

i'm feeling less and less happy these days. i think i have a huge capacity for joy, and my whole being is about being happy. but my built-in protection of non-thinking is deterring my being's purpose. everything's in conflict now. if i think, i'm unhappy. it's gone on long enough that if i continue not to think, i'm trapped in this state of mind, and this state of massachusetts . . .

underpaid, underloved, undersheltered, underdressed
overanxious, overwhelmed, overfed

time warp

two years later and i'm back re-reading genius un-posts and unsavory posts. i can't say much now, though, with the pressure of my shrinking intellect forcing me to feel as though i need to produce something better, smarter, funnier, deeper, more convoluted, less understandable, more symbolic...

which should be easier since i'm technically two years better, smarter, funnier, deeper, more convoluted, less understandable, more symbolic, but i'm not. or maybe i am. the box of my mind is suffering from malnutrition. i can't even write a proper cover letter.

just write something down and see where you go.

maybe i'll come here now when i should be reaching out in RL

reasons why not

i'd be too scared

i'd cause unhappiness

it could be dangerous

it may not last

pity is a disappointing result

. . .