"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

Packing Up

I've been packing stuff up, going through all my buried boxes and bags of clothes I never wear, books don't read, etc. I'm gonna make a good shot at relieving myself of some of this burdin. Sal Army and the local library will get gifts; maybe someone's life will be brightened.

It's been filling me with a great feeling of sadness, actually. Even just walking around the corner past the bustle of Prospect Park, friends on the street, bought a lime fruit bar and two tickets to the last showing of X-men tonight... The humidity in the air I won't miss, but it feels sorry and low to be leaving all this energy behind.

This life I've been living for the past eight months hasn't been right for me. I don't try to pretend otherwise. Still, I can't escape the sensation of something valuable -- the last true fillaments of youth maybe -- slipping through my fingers. I imagine shortly I'll start going bald. Oy vey. That's kind of a maccab image, and overblown to say the least. I don't mind growing up, really, but I want it to be on my terms, not a matter of settling into one of these ruts that civilization hollows out there for ya.

The great problems in life are never solved, of course. It's the challenge and engagement that gives us meaning, yes, but I wish I didn't always feel so out of place. I wish I had bigger piece of the world called home.

I wish I didn't want to try and make all women love me all the time. I wish I were simpler, maybe a vegetarian; maybe a meditator; maybe married to my first girlfriend. I wish I didn't read the news. I wish we were smart enough to not be at war, brave enough to live honest and true and close to the soul.

It's a terrible dark thing sometimes, the future, especially in phases like these where I feel more or less weak and helpless in the face of everything, disconnected from my fellow man even though here we are packed in like sardines. G-D it. I know that I'll be allright, but I'm tortured by ambitions and wishes and that out-of-placeness that secretly (don't tell, I swear) drives much of my desire to change the world.

But tomorrow is another day. The thunder is rolling on in.