the end
my lj has always been about a time and a place. i've always felt that it should be a journal, a place to write and record, rather than, as i've so often tried to make it be, a way to meet and sleep with girls that i'd never have the balls to actually approach in real life. as evidence, i refer you all to my previous lj bleeckerstreet. when it started i was a handful of months from graduating university, inches away from dropping out, confused, drug-addled, heartsick, listless, and horny. i saw no future and figured the simplest thing to do after graduation would be to move back to the almost city-of-my-birth (hence the name). it was a time and a place.
however, somewhere between john street, ann arbor, and bleecker street, new york, i was diverted. god heard my grumbling and moaning and swept me up in his big, meaty, forgiving, and forthright palm and wisked me off to mediterranean shores. i moved to italy. i delayed my inevitable unemployment a good two years. i got over myself (kinda). i got over a girl (not really). i ran out of drugs. in sum, i was a different person; it was a different place and time. my first stop on the boot was milan, city of whores. i moved into daniel's palace, the dorm for foreign exchange students in milan. i had a roommate named douwe. we drank to forget the stifling heat wave that gripped europe that summer, drank and swam in the fountain of the bank across the street. that street was called 'via corridoni' and it treated me well. i began to reinvent myself as a scholar, a traveller, a man of the world. i would soon be educated on 'the continent', i learned to hold my liquor and use it to my advantage, i realized everyone was confused and probably a whole lot more than myself to boot. i fell into the moment and for the first time decided it was some place i could stay for longer than it took for the drugs to wear off. i was still horny.
time went on. the saga drew itself out, exposition, rising action, climax, and finalemente... the denouement. i got my second degree. i kissed those god-kissed mediterranean shores goodbye, and i returned to the city of my almost-birth.
the time, the place... it came to an end.
friends. lovers. total strangers whom i've never met nor got the chance to sleep with.... it's over. the song is sung. the plate's wiped clean with the last crust of bread. gasped its last, i'm calling it quits.
sometime soon i'll start over. real soon, i think... because as this last time and place has been dying its little death inside me, something else has been brewing. new york makes me breathless most days... we'll find the poetry.
however, somewhere between john street, ann arbor, and bleecker street, new york, i was diverted. god heard my grumbling and moaning and swept me up in his big, meaty, forgiving, and forthright palm and wisked me off to mediterranean shores. i moved to italy. i delayed my inevitable unemployment a good two years. i got over myself (kinda). i got over a girl (not really). i ran out of drugs. in sum, i was a different person; it was a different place and time. my first stop on the boot was milan, city of whores. i moved into daniel's palace, the dorm for foreign exchange students in milan. i had a roommate named douwe. we drank to forget the stifling heat wave that gripped europe that summer, drank and swam in the fountain of the bank across the street. that street was called 'via corridoni' and it treated me well. i began to reinvent myself as a scholar, a traveller, a man of the world. i would soon be educated on 'the continent', i learned to hold my liquor and use it to my advantage, i realized everyone was confused and probably a whole lot more than myself to boot. i fell into the moment and for the first time decided it was some place i could stay for longer than it took for the drugs to wear off. i was still horny.
time went on. the saga drew itself out, exposition, rising action, climax, and finalemente... the denouement. i got my second degree. i kissed those god-kissed mediterranean shores goodbye, and i returned to the city of my almost-birth.
the time, the place... it came to an end.
friends. lovers. total strangers whom i've never met nor got the chance to sleep with.... it's over. the song is sung. the plate's wiped clean with the last crust of bread. gasped its last, i'm calling it quits.
sometime soon i'll start over. real soon, i think... because as this last time and place has been dying its little death inside me, something else has been brewing. new york makes me breathless most days... we'll find the poetry.