A steady rain this evening. Showers continuing overnight.

Is this where I planned on ending up? I’m wondering if I’ve been distracted by the shiny objects along the way. It’s a mind trip. I’m such a bottle opener, a noisemaker, a spinning top beneath a neon sign flashing “You’re 25”, etching “pack it up again and get the hell out” in green and blue chalk on the walls.

If you really love someone, you want to do things to make that person happy. Thanks, oh, wise swami of daily calendar truths.

I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

So, perhaps I should stick it out in Chicago for a little while longer.

Fechas solo son fechas. Una siesta en Madrid.

I’d like to promise I won’t pepper this site with Spanish slang and the poetic ramblings of García Lorca, but I should warn you that that’s not likely.

In a sea of baby blues and chocolate brown, a haze of vertigo and repressed desires excluded me from the celebrating wedding crashers, oh hija, que preciosa, and I haven’t forgotten Spanish, at least not yet. Blackouts and backgrounds, green lukewarm bottles of European beer. I’m drunk and spewing absurdity. I’m sober with a sparkless eye . . the Puerto Rican mothers yell and chastise their violent children while the young Harlem men trade insults and golden grins. It is a dark night with a red moon and I’ll never be enough . . for me. Separated. Isolated. Uninvolved. 02/13/06 New York City

I’d like to say I won’t be overdramatic and volatile . . but that’s not likely. That’s not me.

Good luck.

It’s Monday in Chicago. A steady rain this evening. Showers continuing overnight. Low around 40F.

Come in closer.