Another semester starts tomorrow.

Once I have graduated next May (assuming I'm not sabotaged again), I really won't know what identity I own. I've been a student for so long, I can't imagine not being one. At least it will be time to be a teacher again...a role I cherish when I'm abroad.

Indonesia. It's on my mind. I'm almost sold. Must get ESL license to solidify my plans.

Will be publishing some analog photography soon through Amanda.

Somehow I'm managing rent without working. It's very strange.

I'm sure I should look over my shoulder before the bubble bursts.

Something clicked in my mind, or How I Found Sanity Through Prozac.

Think the prozac is working. Things are ordered, hopeful and clear in my mind. I know what I have to do and I'm ready to do it to get the end result that I want. I feel inspired, and I'm feeling much more sane about my relationship.

All good things.

I've decided once I graduate I'm traveling. First, South, if they'll have me. No reason to stay in the same place for long periods of time. I'm free.

Times, they are a changin'.

My best friend is dead.
The girl I love is across the world and suffering.
My ex haunts my mind.
and the only person I want to talk to about it all is not returning my emails.


Life, I tell you. If it doesn't kill you, it kills you anyway.

Ah, my heart is losing it.

She had a miscarriage, after a night of sex bordering on the masochistic. I promised her we would get through it together.


My part:

Be there.
Take a daily tally of things to do and get them done.
Reclaim myself so I'm recognizable when I come out the other end of this in 10 months.
Be there for her.

Randomness

I sit outside on my porch with my taser. 1.8 million volts. I'd rather have a gun. There is a glock in the house but I don't know how to use it. When I get my loans in I'm either getting a min rueger or something in the 9 mm range.

Today another part of my bumper fell off. I hit like 15 4 foot potholes going about 5. But I guess that's what it's for right? To bump things.

Almost done with The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson. These weeks are flying by. I have to finish some school work that's incomplete from last semester.

Someone hacked into Call of Duty 4 tonight and now it's unplayable. Not right. Tomorrow I fix hopefully.

Sanctuary

I turned away from his side of the bed, clenching my pillow between my legs.

A long time later he comes to bed and wakes me. I stare at him over satin sheets in anger.

Morning came, I wrap my arm around his sleeping body, curled up pharaoh-like in the sheets.

We come together hours later on the brick porch for cigarettes, me with my camels and he with his reds.

       "I'm sorry for being angry," I start. "I wanted to make love, but you never came."

Smoke curls around his upper lip as he exhales into his answer.

              "I can't read your mind.  Why didn't you just tell me?"

I pause.

              "I wanted to be classy."

                                              *              *              *              *               *            

Later on that day he says thanks when he means I'm no help at all.

Afternoon from my bed.

When I look through the window

it seems as if

the fan's wind blows straight through the trees

and afternoon sunlight orchestrates

a shadow play

behind closed eyelids.

It's as if I am caught in a private exchange

light and wind

and I, in soft sheets

wrapped in sinewy cloths of imagination.

The silent things we do not witness 

as we aren't around to look

fills the basin larger than anything

we could add.