Deep into my 11th hour today in the office and alone now at 6:45 on a friday, a creeping loneliness sweeps in with the dusk. Here I am on the run from things -- we all realized this was a contributing factor to my readyness to move across country -- and it's not quite working. My thoughts cling to lapsed times, deadening my soul, moments coming back into the minds eye; sometimes unbidden, sometimes dredged up on purpose for the sake of feeling. Or at least feeling what feeling was like, passion regrettably now residing in tenses past.
Don't get me wrong. It's not all desolation. There are sprouts, curious things emerging from the rich San Franciscan soil. But they're fits and flashes, a blurry moment of lust last weekend in the loft with the skate-ramp, but only a moment. Literally. Seconds: flash, eye contact, words, phone number, nothing. The rest is ashes and application, no phoenix yet, dig? Work and sleep and a (still) mostly empty apartment. The moments of coordinated unity are good, the click of teamwork, but when all the purpose falls away and it's just me and my life and my memories... well, the walls are pretty rickety.
And I'm reading Henry Miller and that's probably not helping.
So I'll trundle along. There's too much at stake to get kneecapped by something as banal and ubiquitous as catching a cold and missing your ex-girlfriend. Focus is the premium thing now.