Facing inevitability is weird. I love you today, always tomorrow, but never again shall I see your face.
It’s terrifying. Beautiful and sad. The way life, or my life, tends to be.
And so I’ve one more week with this idyllic angel, and then we must worry about tomorrow, and all tomorrows after. What’s to be done when love is stretched over thousands of miles?
I honestly don’t know what to do. It’s terribly frightening.
But we’ll always have this month. These perfect weeks.
Hanging out in Amsterdam. Spent today and yesterday just wandering, getting super lost, but eventually finding me and other vaguely familiar things. Anycase, it’s been a great three weeks in europe. Falling in love, deeper and deeper, living perfectly imperfect.
Just catching up on all the silly shows I watch at the moment, like Community and Parks and Rec.
Queen’s Day this weekend, then to Paris where I’m going to find Chipotle because it’s apparently there now, then back to Nantes, then to Vienna and Prague and eastern europe. Finally, back home.
It’s funny how used to someone you can become. Sleeping alone already feels weird.
I miss you.
Back in Dublin for the first time in three years, and it’s not the same without my study abroad friends. Missing them a lot right now, actually, sitting at a hostel literally about 100 feet from my old apartment. Some of you remember, maybe, the blog I used to keep while living in Dublin, which can be found here. It’s an interesting thing to look back on.
Went to The Garden of Remembrance yesterday, which was my favorite place in Dublin, and almost cried reading that beautiful poem written on the wall.
We Saw A Vision
In the darkness of despair we saw a vision,
We lit the light of hope and it was not extinguished.
In the desert of discouragement we saw a vision.
We planted the tree of valour and it blossomed.
In the winter of bondage we saw a vision.
We melted the snow of lethargy and the river of resurrection flowed from it.
We sent our vision aswim like a swan on the river. The vision became a reality.
Winter became summer. Bondage became freedom and this we left to you as your inheritance.
O generations of freedom remember us, the generations of the vision.
Once again, leaving today.
Happy Easter, all.
I don’t know if I’ll be updating at all while I’m there, so I might not see any of you till June. I’ll try to get a post or two in every now and then but I make no promises. I may not have internet.
Be sure to grab the novel if you haven’t yet. Ash Cinema.
Also, updated my Publications page because, apparently, a lot of the links were broken. Stories disappeared and so on.
So it goes.
Till the next time, Star Child.
Been listening to Brand New, watching The Office, still, conceptualising novels/reviews/whathaveyou. Mostly just being an idiot.
I leave in about fifteen hours to be gone for months and months, but really only about seven weeks or so.
Super unprepared but I did print out all my tickets and reservations and so on.
I’ve been watching The Office all day, starting again from the beginning. Still awesome. Season two just kicks my chest in every time. I probably won’t make it to season three by the time I leave.
Sunday. Two days until I’ll be flying to meet her.
I like this song more than I probably should.
I feel lonely. I’ve been sad all week, really. I know why, but it’s tedious, as it always is.
But soon I’ll be with her. Looking through her pictures now because I miss her. It’ll be nice to be there, hold her in my arms, fall asleep and wake up to her face.
It’s funny how the world becomes smaller the more you travel even though it gets bigger, again. Expanding even as it shrinks. It’s funny how you get used to be cooped up, too. I had only flown, I think, twice before I went to Ireland but now I’ve been on countless planes. And that first eight hour flight was almost unbearable, but the more time you spend on buses, on planes, on trains, in cars, when eight hours becomes normalised and you find that a seventeen hour busride is terrible but completely doable, and, really, not that bad, when it comes down to it. Just boring.
I travel because I’m restless and never have been able to sit still, so it’s funny how still you have to be for so long in order to be able to travel.
So it goes.
I’ve spent pretty much the whole day in bed.
Two more days.
about liking this song.
Can’t seem to sleep these days. I don’t know what to say about that.
100 copies of Ash Cinema have been ordered. Only five days, way more than I expected. Hopefully some of them will actually read it.
It’s strange how the people who make me happy can also make me so sad.
I feel a bit depressed. It hurts me to know that people I care about are sad.
And they sound sad.
Sometimes I think it’s my fault, that the women in my life fall on hard times when I’m not around. Like I should’ve done things differently. Maybe I shouldn’t have left her alone. Maybe I should’ve been better.
Europe soon, though. Scarily soon. Amazingly soon. And when I think of her, biting her lip, saying the things only she can say, it’s as if it never mattered.
And maybe that’s worse, that she makes me not care about the women who’ve made and defined my life. Who would I be without them? Who am I without them?
But I’ll be with her soon and that’s really all I need. I’m super unprepared, however. Meant to finish a lot of things this week, too, but I’ve done absolutely nothing.
I’ll be with you soon, beautiful.
Back from Colorado, which was a delightful week full of too much fun involving _____________ and _____________ and mountaining all over the place.
Went skiing for the first time in maybe a decade and totally thrashed my hand, but it’s okay. I found I quite like skiing and might try doing it much more often next winter. Make it a habit, or something, maybe, if I have money.
Leaving for europe in seven days to be with a special lady.
Lots to be done this week. I want to finish at least one of these half finished novels and the essay/interview/novella I started forever ago. Also maybe write up a few recommendations for The Lit Pub.
And, of course, keep bothering people about Ash Cinema. Also, need to sort out what’s what with two other novels that’re sitting with publishers.
So much writing to do! But all I want to do is sing to you.
Two months in europe, hopefully I’ll have a bit of money left over to find a place to live in Minnesota. Possibly settling down is so strange. Maybe it’s worth it. Who can say? Who can quantify the calculus of the heart?
All to be with her smiling face.