I'm totally one of those people that concentrates on learning from my past and needs my "relationship rearview mirrors" because I'm such a fucking dweller. But man, reading these letters back and forth from friends in high school, I realize how adult I am. I've held onto myself, the things and experiences that have made me my charming, foul-mouthed, fun self, but no way have I felt things (and articulated them in such an intense way), as I have in these notes. I realize now even more how paifully aware of my environment I always was, and how well I've always written and articulated. It breaks my heart a bit to read these things, though, because I can't help but wonder if these were the most intellectually fertile times of my life. It's too early to think that, but I haven't felt as equally parts desperate and happy as I know I was when these things were written.
Turning around aside, I am fucking knackered. I haven't updated in ages, but suffice is to say, Kaitlin and I got a great place that we really like in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and we fly out there on August 10th. The trip back was nice. it was fucking hot as all get out, and really, really humid and the task of finding an apartment was monumentally daunting, but fruitful. And really, really expensive. I did manage to get drunk a handful of times, meet my really, really great gay Jew boss, who I love love love, and I got to see The Stills on Coney Island and got guest listed at this really great bar in the West Village where Tim and Olivier were DJing. I love those guys. They're so gracious with me, I really don't understand it. It wwas so funny, they got so excited and confused to see me on the wrong coast.
Other than that, I've been home for a week now, working non-stop and masturbating furiously when not packing my life into cardboard and rationalizing moving papers from my past that I found and somehow, now, can't live without.
Whatever the case, things, they are achanging for me, and I'm really, really terribly excited.
PS, I am in LOVE LOVE LOVE with Django Reinhardt, The Clash, and the B-52's. Oh summer.