this is the last night in my body

Been awhile since I’ve posted much here. Been super l a z y. Always, perpetually, infinitely. Writing again, though, entombing words on the page.

Some kind words said about me here by Jesse Lawrence.

A year ago today I finished my first draft of my first novel ever: Noir: A Love Story. Someday I’ll start trying to get it published. Or try harder. I wrote a few e-mails forever ago, but nothing more.

Almost quit my job and flew home, but, instead, was given my vacation, so now I’m planning [not really] my trip to Beijing where I’ll spend my birthday on the Great Wall, waving to space. A part of me kind of just wants to spit off it, which, yeah, a completely valid reason for going.

Spent all night out drinking but not drunking, if you get me, with my coworkers, one of whom is leaving Korea, so I’ll likely never see her again. Discovered my Korean coworkers, like all Koreans, love to sing, and all Korean men are amazing singers, which I barely even understand.

Been randomly wandering here and there and everywhere. Stayed with some Buddhist monks at a temple, wandered a mountain and sea, drank with the stars, cried over the ones who fell, the supernovas and nebulas.

Reading: always. Every free minute I can seem to get, except, of course, when I’m too busy staring at walls, waiting for the world to form around us, make more sense.

Outraged more and more every day to the point of immolation [not really, but really]. I don’t understand anymore how people can survive the terrors of the world, with forever violence transcending this neverness.

So it goes.

For a century.

And a millennium more.

Describing my sexuality to my coworkers last night, which, for some reason, is never easy for people to understand, maybe because I can’t explain it, and, really, I’m probably the worst person to explain myself, for who you are is never who you think or believe you are. But, yes, my complicated lovelife, which is so free of complication as to bewilder those who hear about it. More girls should like me, though, because I’m adorable. Not looking, but, man, I do adorable things. I can’t help myself.

I’m going to be an uncle.

I’m going to be a godfather.

Excited, more than is reasonable. My sister’s pregnant on the otherside of the world with a child who, in small part, I’ll help forge. It’s weird, thinking about how who you are influences those around you, especially the little ones. When he’s born, I’ll be greeting him with a children’s book written and designed for him.

I miss my Lily Belle.

Life matters less without her, but we carry on the best we can.

Take care, Starchild.

I’ll be out making bad decisions, breaking my own heart, screaming into the night.

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