subs
Like, subway, subtext, submission, subconscious, substitute.
I've totally been off socially lately. It's interesting to see which relationships continue to flourish when I step back, and which ones dwindle like half-read books. None of this has been deliberate. In fact, if anybody were paying attention, they might conclude that my lack of attention to social affairs (and everything else, honestly--academic affairs, writing, job hunting, almost everything that matters to me) is a result of the fact that I'm falling the dirty way, the only way. Some moments I come close to thinking that it's something, this sensation distracting me, that it's some emotion that is vaguely familiar, one of the intense ones that led me at one point ages ago to construct a few roadblocks in my secret infrastructure. But now it dawns on me that I haven't really been paying attention to much lately myself, I'm not sure what exactly has been going on, I'm not sure whether I can effectively piece together commentary about my own emotions lately. I've been having (too) much drink and smoke, many lovely conversations (that I keep forgetting), many episodes of shut-eye at one house in particular, in a room that has become frighteningly familiar to me in the short space of one month. And I am sure it has been one month because I am a clock, because he was one hundred per cent present for my last cycle. And so he was this time around as well, only we had just finished getting lost together in the city that never sleeps, the sun was just coming up, it was two days after we arrived and I was not surprised at all to be bleeding; it seems that I always do on the first day in a new city.
He asked me yesterday if he made a good road trip buddy & I told him that I'm pretty sure that when I look back on this trip, I'll recall it with a fondness that's not easy to match. There is so much to write about the trip that I don't know where to begin. I saw a handful of friends I haven't seen in ages, I didn't get to see any family, I ascertained that I am not infatuated with NYC the way that many others are, but that I could easily live there regardless. It feels like home, it feels fucking safe to me. So goddamned safe in so many ways. But I can take it or leave it, just like most everything else within my reach.
I need to make a summary of the trip somewhere before the excessive booze & bud of recent days erases the details from my memory, but I'm too restless at the moment to do that.
I'm infatuated with this CD. It's one of those I'd-like-to-burn-everyone-a-copy discs.
I've totally been off socially lately. It's interesting to see which relationships continue to flourish when I step back, and which ones dwindle like half-read books. None of this has been deliberate. In fact, if anybody were paying attention, they might conclude that my lack of attention to social affairs (and everything else, honestly--academic affairs, writing, job hunting, almost everything that matters to me) is a result of the fact that I'm falling the dirty way, the only way. Some moments I come close to thinking that it's something, this sensation distracting me, that it's some emotion that is vaguely familiar, one of the intense ones that led me at one point ages ago to construct a few roadblocks in my secret infrastructure. But now it dawns on me that I haven't really been paying attention to much lately myself, I'm not sure what exactly has been going on, I'm not sure whether I can effectively piece together commentary about my own emotions lately. I've been having (too) much drink and smoke, many lovely conversations (that I keep forgetting), many episodes of shut-eye at one house in particular, in a room that has become frighteningly familiar to me in the short space of one month. And I am sure it has been one month because I am a clock, because he was one hundred per cent present for my last cycle. And so he was this time around as well, only we had just finished getting lost together in the city that never sleeps, the sun was just coming up, it was two days after we arrived and I was not surprised at all to be bleeding; it seems that I always do on the first day in a new city.
He asked me yesterday if he made a good road trip buddy & I told him that I'm pretty sure that when I look back on this trip, I'll recall it with a fondness that's not easy to match. There is so much to write about the trip that I don't know where to begin. I saw a handful of friends I haven't seen in ages, I didn't get to see any family, I ascertained that I am not infatuated with NYC the way that many others are, but that I could easily live there regardless. It feels like home, it feels fucking safe to me. So goddamned safe in so many ways. But I can take it or leave it, just like most everything else within my reach.
I need to make a summary of the trip somewhere before the excessive booze & bud of recent days erases the details from my memory, but I'm too restless at the moment to do that.
I'm infatuated with this CD. It's one of those I'd-like-to-burn-everyone-a-copy discs.