I've been outdone.

THIS is my sister. God help me.

I love you Naina-babe.

Had to.

We had the sky up there, all speckled with
stars, and we used to lay on our backs...
and discuss whether they were made, or only
just happened. -Mark Twain

Well.

Finally this job search is showing me some fruit.

I have an interview with a small-scale independant publishing company on Staten Island. The job? Editorial Assistant and "full-time researcher". The catch is this is THE independant publishing company owned by Darwin Porter and Dansforth Prince. Why do those names sound familiar? Well, they are co-authors of many of the Frommer's travel guides. Is this an in to work I have until now only dreamt of doing?

We'll see. I sure hope so.

If not, i've just submitted an app to Random House Publishing.

Jesu Cristo Almight Durnit C'mon!

Of all times to be hit with the wanderlust. It's 2:10AM and I cannot sleep because of an overwhelming, screaming, imminent need to pack my Jansport, run out the front door and stick my thumb out towards oncoming traffic on Washington ave. Where to? Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

Because I feel so stuck. And i'm forcing myself to remain untethered, to not expect tomorrow, to not begin what I cannot see through... and all for what? Departure day feels further and further away as keeps drifing like an oarless dingy on a fickle current. I want to leave on September first. I don't want to have a real plan. Issues? Money. I need to leave some money in a bank account here to cover my student loan payments while i'm away, and also regular credit card payments for the one credit card i've got left. I need a new laptop because mine is extinct. In other words, I need a job. But a job is time and commitments that I need to avoid making in order to leave on my own terms so part of me just says screw it, just go and may the good Lord be with you. What am I doing? Where am I going?

Other issues? Safety. Obvious reasons.

Why is this world so scary? I guess it's like the lake. Deep and dark but i've got to jump in. I trust in my ability to swim and that there is nothing lurking beneath the surface that will do me any harm. But it's just -- sometimes there is.

Just one month. So very much can happen. I just had to get that out... idiotic, insomniac ranting...

Dog Days

I sit,
sipping on my
orange-juice-stonybrook-farms-plain-yougurt-fresh-strawberry-and-frozen-banana
health shake
(the remainder of which coats the bottom of the blender on the kitchen table),
musing over the past 48 hours
and my keen knack for doing 180's
and leaving deep track marks
where i've dug-in and spun on my heels,
wondering whether or not
the waitress at the diner this morning
appreciated my transciption of Keats'
"This Living Hand"
onto my placemat to accompany the tip,
wondering why this is morning two in a row
that i've woken up still fully dressed from the night before,
why i've not hesitated
to book myself out for tonight as well,
knowing, full, full well
that I begin class three (The Victorians)
tomorrow morning at 8:30AM
and that all of this booking my time up
is a poor excuse
for not thinking about the fact
that i've broken up with the Artist
for reasons that are slightly less pressing in retrospect,
but pressing none-the-less,
and wondering if Fitz and I
will actually make it out to Montreal next weekend,
where the hell i'll be in a month,
if i'll ever see Anya again,
if Ma~ will ever come home,
if Andrew will ever disappear,
if people ever really change
and why I hate my country so much.
I'm thinking about
Jen and Dan
and whether or not they'll be happy in Indiana
because it's so flat
but I think they will,
especially with a hound adorable as that,
and I bet they will invite me to their wedding
and I think i'll have to fly in from somewhere far away to get there.
I'm thinking about Lake George
and hoping i'll see it again before I leave
and thinking of the pictures I took when I went
with the Artist there two days ago
realizing I still have no pictures of us together
kind of like I have no pictures of Andrew and I together
which makes it easier to pretend like it never happened
because there is no proof
and memory is tricky.
Damn this shake is good.
I'll be right back, i'm going to pour in the rest.
There was a lot left.
And the banana is still chunky.
I wonder when this laptop will finally put out on me for good.
And if i'll ever be able to afford a new one.
And if there are any new job postings for writers and editors
on the Craig's List for New York City
if Ian will make it out here from California
if i'll visit Michelle in Boston
Maybe Ma~ and I can hitchhike there some weekend
it's something i'd like to try.
I took a long nap this afternoon
still dressed in what I wore out last night
I need to shower.
I don't know why I wrote this in poetic verse
Maybe to make it intelligible.
Ok, time to shower...