Lurid Traversal
Back again. Town where I was born nearly 19 years ago. And yet it's dead to me.
Dead and burning. This city's on fire with the heat. I slept 15 and a half hours last night and woke up far too early.
United Airlines left my luggage in Los Angeles. Those bastards. It should be in sometime today.
My brother used my laptop to play some game online, because that's all he knows to do, and got some sort of Trojan into it, and after I tried to fix it I found I couldn't log onto the system anymore. So now we have to reformat. That means total loss of everything, from photographs that were never put online to saved AIM conversations to everything I ever wrote for The Lit, or anything else, that was never printed. All I have left are what I have on my external hard drive, which includes three thousand mp3s, a few dozen music videos, and--inexplicably--my Opendiary entries from the Lawrenceville years. Totally useless. Not that anything I'm going to erase is useful.
Speaking of diary entries, I guess the old circle of pseudonyms is broken finally, not that I was ever a part of it because I changed my name every other week, but you know what I mean. So long Banks and North and good luck to whatever you choose to be.
I miss you. I really do. It's ridiculous how much just hearing your voice every day meant to me. I don't know how I'm going to go 30 days, starting today, without it. Steve left me a note a few months back asking me if a girlfriend was a panacea. I said no, because a panacea, by definition, is the ultimate cure-all, and there's no such thing as a cure-all. But without you here I seem to lose the ability to deal with whatever I may have been previously able to. I even lose sight of the fact that I'll probably see you again within 5 weeks. I don't know how I'll deal with myself for the next 30 days. I can't exactly just go out and buy a lot of liquor for drinking--although I can do so perfectly legally--because I'm living in an apartment with my mother and 12 year old brother. And besides, you'd yell at me. So I won't, okay? That much I promise. I love you.
I meant every word I said.
Dead and burning. This city's on fire with the heat. I slept 15 and a half hours last night and woke up far too early.
United Airlines left my luggage in Los Angeles. Those bastards. It should be in sometime today.
My brother used my laptop to play some game online, because that's all he knows to do, and got some sort of Trojan into it, and after I tried to fix it I found I couldn't log onto the system anymore. So now we have to reformat. That means total loss of everything, from photographs that were never put online to saved AIM conversations to everything I ever wrote for The Lit, or anything else, that was never printed. All I have left are what I have on my external hard drive, which includes three thousand mp3s, a few dozen music videos, and--inexplicably--my Opendiary entries from the Lawrenceville years. Totally useless. Not that anything I'm going to erase is useful.
Speaking of diary entries, I guess the old circle of pseudonyms is broken finally, not that I was ever a part of it because I changed my name every other week, but you know what I mean. So long Banks and North and good luck to whatever you choose to be.
I miss you. I really do. It's ridiculous how much just hearing your voice every day meant to me. I don't know how I'm going to go 30 days, starting today, without it. Steve left me a note a few months back asking me if a girlfriend was a panacea. I said no, because a panacea, by definition, is the ultimate cure-all, and there's no such thing as a cure-all. But without you here I seem to lose the ability to deal with whatever I may have been previously able to. I even lose sight of the fact that I'll probably see you again within 5 weeks. I don't know how I'll deal with myself for the next 30 days. I can't exactly just go out and buy a lot of liquor for drinking--although I can do so perfectly legally--because I'm living in an apartment with my mother and 12 year old brother. And besides, you'd yell at me. So I won't, okay? That much I promise. I love you.
I meant every word I said.