Friday, March 30, 2012


First time I remember that I've had money in my account come the end of the month.  It hurts so much.  I wish you were still here, so we could keep arguing over money and getting me into debt.

You were right about that, as about so much else.

Thursday, March 22, 2012


“No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge.” - Jack Kerouac

Writing is becoming a tyranny.  Not just this, but the 'book' I'm writing.  I'm tired of judging my emotions by how good a writer I am.  Yes, a lot of it is trite.  That doesn't make it less true.  'Trite', a word I learned in creative writing class in middle school.  The worst condemnation.  Enough.  I just want to feel.

Saturday, March 17, 2012


The nice weather makes me want to die.  And I don't mean just now.  I've always been like that.  It's like I've been created to tough it out, but I don't have what it takes to let go and enjoy the warmth.  No, that makes me want to quit. "Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair."  It brings so many expectations that will never be fulfilled. 

Saturday, March 10, 2012

more dreams

Well, I thought the fear had disappeared.  That gut-gripping fear upon awakening.  But that's because I hadn't dreamed of him.  It came back one night.  I was following him and watching him go somewhere, a bad place, at night, looking for danger. I wasn’t trying to stop him, more spying on him, but I was cut by the knowledge that this is what he does, that there are things I don’t know about, risky things.

Then last night I had quite a different dream, a very Freudian one.  He was 6 or 7, we had gone back home for good and I was concerned that he would forget English so I was going to get my father (a former Ambassador) to ask at the American embassy if they would accept him in their after-school program so he could go there maybe once a week. I was concerned that he would grow up not speaking English. There was also some other opportunity - a play(?) that I wanted him to try out for. The embassy's back yard abutted on our own (or what appeared to be my grandparents' village house yard). We could hear the kids playing. As I was formulating this plan there was some urgency to it, but at the same time I thought, well, what's the point, when he's dead now, but I still planned to go through with it.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Sunday, March 4, 2012

End of the day

Such a blessed relief. Especially on weekends when I'm at a loss as to what to do with myself.

I did my yoga, I cooked lunch, I did my writing (thank god for that), I'm having my drink (never enough, but I resist overindulging) and soon (not soon enough) I will be unconscious. Overall a success, I think, considering I have no hope for the future.

'Life is how it is, not how it was.' - Bright Eyes