So, I've made a career decision of sorts.
Whenever a major change takes place in my life, I end up taking a couple of sleepless nights to reflect on things, going over the step-by-step of how I got myself wherever I happen to be. Sometimes this means looking at a few weeks, sometimes years. Last night, I went back almost three years, to the beginning of my first relationship.
I haven't thought about that in awhile, largely out of bitterness, but now I find the bitterness gone. And better yet, I find a desire to write about these things. Like, in a writerly fashion. This is, frankly, more in an attempt to better understand them than in hopes of writing something genuinely worth reading, but I'm going to do it. And I'm going to do it here, starting today. I'm going to cover random but meaningful days and events in the past three years, covering both relationships and the shit that happened in between. I'm going to be painfully honest about these things, something I'm sure Jessie would want to kill me for (knowing Sarah, I'm sure she'll be cool with it). Regardless, people ought to know that you don't date a writer if you can't take the heat. But neither of them should worry, really. These stories will be much, much harder on myself than on either of them.
PS: I hope at least a few of you have the patience for this. Thanks.
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As I just admitted to the lovely (?) toneski, my apologies for this; I was going to start this endeavour this morning, but my head is way too fuzzy from not-sleep to produce anything but guano. And not the good kinda guano, either.
Stands appalled as, for the second day in a row, shit becomes a topic on conversation in my journal.
Need a hobby. And beer. Lots of beer.
Whenever a major change takes place in my life, I end up taking a couple of sleepless nights to reflect on things, going over the step-by-step of how I got myself wherever I happen to be. Sometimes this means looking at a few weeks, sometimes years. Last night, I went back almost three years, to the beginning of my first relationship.
I haven't thought about that in awhile, largely out of bitterness, but now I find the bitterness gone. And better yet, I find a desire to write about these things. Like, in a writerly fashion. This is, frankly, more in an attempt to better understand them than in hopes of writing something genuinely worth reading, but I'm going to do it. And I'm going to do it here, starting today. I'm going to cover random but meaningful days and events in the past three years, covering both relationships and the shit that happened in between. I'm going to be painfully honest about these things, something I'm sure Jessie would want to kill me for (knowing Sarah, I'm sure she'll be cool with it). Regardless, people ought to know that you don't date a writer if you can't take the heat. But neither of them should worry, really. These stories will be much, much harder on myself than on either of them.
PS: I hope at least a few of you have the patience for this. Thanks.
-------------------------------------------------
As I just admitted to the lovely (?) toneski, my apologies for this; I was going to start this endeavour this morning, but my head is way too fuzzy from not-sleep to produce anything but guano. And not the good kinda guano, either.
Stands appalled as, for the second day in a row, shit becomes a topic on conversation in my journal.
Need a hobby. And beer. Lots of beer.
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
[Edited on Feb 25, 2005 8:18PM]
really, though, it should be something regarding anykind of relationship sith a writer.
right now, i'm wodering if i should type up an Entry i wrote saturday morning, for that simple fact.
i dunno if the person it's about would appreciate where i'm coming from.
either way...
i'm convinced that the cocksucker that invented the Evil Cube is the same fuck that invented Tetris.
and crack.
GI = gastrointestinal
The Last Minute is this badass film by Stephen Norrington--
here's the official site, they might have a preview there ...