Wrong baggage

Well, I’ve had an unpleasant evening. Don’t ask. I’m still not sleeping either. Maybe it’ll get better but in the meanwhile, I thought about my recent past.

I took this bag with me all over the world for two years. I had it custom made back when I had some coin.

I wanna see the sun in Santa Monica again, or the sun on Five Finger Mountain in Xinzhu again, or the sun on the Baltic Sea in Denmark again, or the…oh you get the point.

I hated traveling around the world when I had to, now I miss it so. It is always greener there, isn’t it?

No worries, I’m still hopeful. Just not here.

Too much baggage.

Location: @11:21, leaving the east side
Mood: melancholy
Music: just a notch in your bedpost But you’re just a line in a song

Cowboys

Aren’t most friendships finite?

I’ve been stuck here for a bit. Don’t ask. But it reminds me of something from a while ago.

One of my closest friends in college was a guy named Crawford who was a god at meeting women – he was (a) good-looking, (b) charming and (c) shameless. We had a blast for two years.

He told me a story once. He said that real cowboys were hired, maybe five to eight at a time, in one state to drive cattle to the other end of the country. This bunch of guys was thrown together for months at a time and, during this time, they were each others’ friends, doctors, entertainers, cooks and guardian angels. They needed to keep each other sane and safe to get the job done.

And once the job was done, they separated. No emails, faxes, phone calls, letters. Just onto the next job.

The question Crawford posed to me was: were they truly friends? Is there such thing as friendship when there’s a finite ending?

What about when two lovers separate – was there any love really there?

My answer to all is yes.

Because at some point everything ends. Life will take everything and everyone you love. There is nothing you can touch that you won’t lose at some point down the line.

Five months, fifty years, the time doesn’t make it any more or less real.

I take solace in that.

At some point, these people I loved, once loved me. It’s sad when relationships end but goodbyes are always sad.

Crawford and I both moved here to the big city. We met up once but then I never saw him again.

He was a good friend.

Location: @ 7:10 AM, taking the east side local
Mood: optimistic
Music: Its such a shame, Always ends the same

More Traveling

I’m just south of nowhere and east of limbo

I’m here right now – about 350+ miles from home. This place is so remote that there’s no airport nearby so I had to drive. You do a lot of thinking driving 350+ miles.

The last few times I drove so far, I thought about the ex constantly. I thought of her again, of course, but I also thought about other things.

A few years ago, a friend asked me to set him up with a Vietnam visa on arrival for him and his girlfriend from China. I started the paperwork.

A month or so later, I got a slim letter from him with a check; the letter read:

“We’re not getting married; here’s $600 for your time. Thanks!”

I didn’t know what to say. I had already starting being an impoverished writer so I cashed the check (I’m not a good person), gave him a quick call, confirmed he was ok and moved on. That was four years ago.

We spoke a little while ago. He told me that he spent two, three years casually dating but, in his heart, he thought that she might come back. They spoke occasionally. He got a call from her and she said that she was coming to visit America and would like to see him for dinner.

He was excited, of course, but when they sat down, she said that she came because she heard a bit of hope in his voice the last time they spoke. It bothered her that whole time so she flew 24+ hours to give him closure.

He said it was the nicest thing anyone ever did for him. He knew where he stood – that made him free.

I think he’s doing well now.

Anywho, I think about the ex a lot less and I think I’m almost at the point that I want to do something like that for her. The last time we spoke, I heard in her voice something like hope and I’m not looking for that right now. She’s not the girl I loved and I’m def. not that guy anymore. Oh, but what do I know?

I’ve become bland and malicious.

I’ve been doing a lot of things I’m not…oh you know…

So that’s where I am right now, just south of nowhere and east of limbo.

The weather’s crappy.

Location: South of nowhere and east of limbo.
Mood: Tired
Music: I’ma scuffle and struggle till I’m breathless and weak

I’m on my way home

Looking for a place to call home

My insomnia’s resulting in a lot more late night eating than usual. Better hit the gym soon.

Someone from my past dropped me a meaningless email today. But it stopped me cold. It’s so weird how someone can encompass your life and then, much later, just shoot you a random email about randomness. It made me feel very much adrift.

Speaking of which, had dinner with a very old friend of mine yesterday who happens to be a head-shrinker. Told him that I just wanted to hop the next plane to anywhere and he laughed and said that, generally, people that have a desire to travel are looking for a place to call home.

How random.

Location: @11:00, in Billyburg, talking to a 23 YO communist woman
Mood: Tired
Music: tonight, tonight, I’m on my way, I’m on my way home

Getting outta Dodge

Keep thinking of going far away; all I really end up going is mad

Think I’m going a little mad.

My hands won’t stop shaking and I’ve become obsessed with idea of just hopping on a plane and going somewhere far away. I don’t know where or what I’d do about the mortgage, the businesses, the job, everything.

I was once very happy on this little beach in just south of Denmark. I was also once happy in the Forbidden City. I was also once happy in my little apartment off 5th Avenue. I was also once happy here.

My #$@$#@$@# hands won’t stop shaking.

And I still can’t sleep.

Think I’m going a little mad.

Location: @12:10AM, almost hitting 90 on the West Side Highway.
Mood: Weird
Music: I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go…