recap
it's been over three years, hasn't it? since i first packed up my bags and left south texas for this. i still think about it every day. how couldn't i? it's a part of me, no denyin'. but still, every day i breathe the new england air i feel at home. it's such a brutal tear; i have some of the best friends of all time living in texas (including THE best friend, who is about to move there); but meanwhile there's a whole gulag of friendly folks this side of the mason dixon that i can't bear to tear away from, at least not yet.
we all have paths, and this is mine right now. there's some carrot dangling in my sight that's got me going on and on, waiting for the next big thing...and like i tell everyone who asks me, every day is full of the next big thing(s).
don't think, texas, that i've abandoned you. i guess you know better than that.
and new england, don't get suspicious that i'm leaving you.
how can i balance the two? it's like being torn apart, right on the inside. makes it really hard to commit to things. i almost feel that any day i could just up and leave on to wherever it is i have to go. while i'm commited to this town, to the restaurant, to the space, to my friends, to my art; the commitment to myself says "do what you have to when you have to".
i guess that includes lame retrospective pieces like this, due about every six months with not the smallest bit of nostalgia.
i have a room now. one that you'd like to look at. one that i like to look at. one that i like to live in. it's got a bong, a stereo, a rug. it's nice.
i've come a long way.
we all have paths, and this is mine right now. there's some carrot dangling in my sight that's got me going on and on, waiting for the next big thing...and like i tell everyone who asks me, every day is full of the next big thing(s).
don't think, texas, that i've abandoned you. i guess you know better than that.
and new england, don't get suspicious that i'm leaving you.
how can i balance the two? it's like being torn apart, right on the inside. makes it really hard to commit to things. i almost feel that any day i could just up and leave on to wherever it is i have to go. while i'm commited to this town, to the restaurant, to the space, to my friends, to my art; the commitment to myself says "do what you have to when you have to".
i guess that includes lame retrospective pieces like this, due about every six months with not the smallest bit of nostalgia.
i have a room now. one that you'd like to look at. one that i like to look at. one that i like to live in. it's got a bong, a stereo, a rug. it's nice.
i've come a long way.