Almost Gone (on making friends, elvis and alcohol)

Written on August 19th, 2007 (on paper with no lines)


The day after our going away party. I've always disliked writing on paper without lines. I need direction. I need guidance. I need forgiveness. The lines give me that. I work best with a computer. But they are not to be trusted. Not with your life at any rate.

Sometimes I feel as if the stress, the anticipation of moving is going to swallow me up whole. Today, as I sit here, most of the work that was set out before us is done. Car sold. Apartment found. Destination known. Party over. Neighborhood known. Something to tell people. And it does feel good. Much less to worry about.

But there is also waiting to be done now. I need to make the most of it. But I struggle. For re asons far too vast and deep to put down on this paper that does not even have lines. I have found it near impossible to spend quality time with my folks before I head out. I'm not sure if that's even what they want. It might be easier if I wasn't their neighbor. A man needs space. It might be easier if it were not for the Dakota. I get so grumpy. Nerves on end. It might be easier if alcohol was not involved. It can get so messy. I think we need space. And we will certainly get lots of that. It might be easier if I didn't make excuses.

Most of my friends are now headed in a different direction. I've seen it happen before. Hell, I've done it before. They are going. Going away. Someplace else. If your aren't already too invested there is no point in doing that to yourself now.

But there are some. More than enough really. Leo is already too invested. He is somewhere else. But it matters not. We are too invested. Cutting ties would cost too much. And I am thankful for that. Very much so.

I think I have reached an age, or entered a stage, where it is much more difficult to find friends like that. Perhaps it is gone forever. My interests include Jerry, the grateful dead and everything related, communism, socialist thought and history, labor, black power, the red sox, football, hiking, dogs, cats and my pickemup truck. Just to name a few. I hate politics, liberals, conservatives, materialism, stuff, i me mine, bigotry, political correctness and dogs that lick. I am quiet most of the time. And dead serious if I don't trust you. I can entertain. Bout only on rare occasions. My idea of a good night involves slow musics, alcohol and maybe a book. And of course Ren. If I go out I prefer not to talk. I hate meaningless drunk talk. I can't respect someone after they spill their guts to me and make grand plans one evening only to forget all about it the next day.

Few will be my friend. Perhaps it is better this way.

It is a funny thing not to know what the future will hold. No one ever really knows. But most lie and tell themselves they do. I don't know what city I will buy a house and settle down in. I don't know if I will ever return to the place of my birth.

I will miss my father on Christmas morning. It is the only day of the year that I could ever be sure that he would be in a good mood. I don't know what it is. But the man loves that day. And it is infectious. I associate Elvis Christmas songs with this feeling. And I am glad that I have the cd to bring with me. I am sure that Ren will appreciate how often I play it.

I think that I am going to love Portland. In fact, I don't think that I will ever want to leave. More I think about it And that does scare me a little bit. Maybe it does alot of bit.

Lord, it will be good for me. And that is scary.

Jazz. Wine. Ren.

I have no more need to write today.