(no subject)
Getting close to two weeks in this enormous city, and there was never any expectation for it to feel like home. It's strange (it's always strange, living like this), I'm waiting for the guilty "soon I go back to my real life" feeling to subside, but no, it's good. It's really good. That one November, I thought I'd drown in Lake Michigan. This time, Lake Michigan looks incredible in the middle of the night, and that walk up the hill by the sailboats in the middle of the night felt like a certain night in the mountains. I think I do a lot of things because I feel like I don't do anything. Goddamn. It's good I don't feel regular. It shouldn't feel usual to move across the country with the intention of moving across the country again. My self-renewal bullshit and I are making new friends and being really fucking proud of the differences between weightloss this year and last. I'm amazed at differences in the color of dirt and regional vocabulary.