If I think of her feet I'll die but I see them there. I want to listen to her band's CD but I can't even though I've been craving new music to listen to. When I go to bed there will be pictures in my head that won't resolve the feeling that there is a lot of space around me and it won't be filled anytime soon by flesh and a soft voice. I needed to get that out, I did.
Wisconsin--too much.
Chicago--I feel like I have figured it out and have seen a preview for the year to come. I'm afraid I will crawl into a hole and not come out, that hole being work. Full course load, auditing a course...if you know me, you know I don't work, except for school and school related things. I will be tutoring however, and an editor of an elitist magazine that is student run but seldom publishes students [I'm nervous that I just included that sentiment but it needed to be expressed]. No apartment. Still. I realized that art is something I really do care about, something I need to explore and squeeze and rub for a while. Visual art is something I'm really considering. I found a 35mm SLR today that I plan to get in working order and use soon. I'll start there and hopefully film ideas and a video camera will come later...writing is exhausting but I want to be exhausted and enraptured by it and be a better a writer because right now I could sell my poems on toilet paper and people would still find no use for them.
Minneapolis--great city but I can't think about it right now.
New Hampshire--I genuinely, for the first time, was not excited to come home but so far I am enjoying myself because I know I have changed and by that virtue things here will change, I'm optimistic of this at least. There is a new Mexican restaurant in town. It's the first. It's fine Mexican food which doesn't seem authentic in the least bit, but it was damn good and I will probably eat there whenever I can afford to.
As you can see, my writing style has changed. I am trying out this stacatto, stream of conciousness business punctuated mostly by periods and minimally by commas. I must say, though it is a rather constipated way of writing, it is very relieving (no poop pun intended...ok maybe a little bit).
Anywho, I wanted to reconnect with the blogosphere. I don't know who reads this and if I should even get great joy out of knowing that people read this but I am merely trying to keep my chops up and communicate something. Communicate something.
The anthropology of coming home.
