and i'm here, at work. they turn the HVAC off on Sundays. I rode my bike, after sleeping late, finally, so tired. i saw my friend amber last night, and i reconnected with that year, working at the coffee shop and becoming fed up with my life as an attorney. i went to see amber's friend, hope irish, play at antone's, and i reconnected with
i'm working, and listening to This American Life, about a man that couldn't read - at all. he tried to drive trucks for a while, but couldn't even read street signs, road signs, city limit signs, exit signs, one-way signs. he was always late, and his paychecks were docked, and his wife left him, and he lost that job. at 45, he began a literacy program. he has assignments now, has to do a report on a book, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish...
If I was to show that to people, they would say, 'wow," I don't know, they would really try to embarass you. But at home, by myself, I'm happy, with just reading this. This is better than reading anything at all. Just a simple book.
He says that now when he gets lost, he can read his way back.
tears are a thing again, lately, and the man, so late in his life, his enjoyment of Dr. Seuss, his being limited to it... yeah, that does it.
I rode down to Fagan's going away party. nice people. i met him running, with that bunch, and one of the coaches is there. I hadn't seen her since the day it all came down. she didn't look at me that day. today, she's kind as ever, says "water under the bridge." I tell her I wish it was for everybody. I mean them, but I also mean me. It's not for me. in 39 years, after going to middle school and high school in Westlake, of all God-forsaken places, those were the first people that ever made me just want to leave this town, my town.
i can't get to things. i can't get past things. they can laugh, or shake their heads in amazement at these inabilities, but you can do that when you haven't lost shit. it's easy to judge when you don't lose.
i don't know. i'm tired. tired of them, tired of me. i keep feeling like i rely on cheap lies for hope. my friends are real (more real than some of the ones in the past, clearly). and she's real. her love for me is real. and she's leaving town. what can i be to her when she's gone? what can i be to her when she comes back?
sorry, there's no ending to this. not yet.
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