I spent the evening with Sasha last night. We had some Thai at Amarin -- trying to smalltalk in spite of my vast uncomfortability -- then back to her place ostensably for me to pick up stuff of mine that's still over there. I launched "the pitch," laying out my feelings on the summer and my misgivings about breaking up.

Basically I know the summer was a poochscrew. We didn't talk about it enough. I didn't want to jinx anything, so I just sort of let it ride. That's a bad idea when you're planning two months worth of travel. Live and learn. This was the catalyst for the split, and I understand it. Even agree up to a point.

At the same time, I realized this week I'm not ready to let her go. This kind of thing doesn't come along all that often for me, and I decided that I can't simply roll over on the whole relationship. I did a pretty bad job making my case, lots of fumbling for words and hemming and hawing, but I think the point got across. It's better to regret what you've done than what you havn't. She says she's not going anywhere; we sat out in a hammock feeling the lightning and the rain come in. Just being close, which did great things for my soul.

It's going to be a little raw for a while. It's a hard situation. She says she's done fucking around. I echo the sentiment, but maybe we mean different things. She wants to settle, doesn't want to be a trucker's wife, which I can appreciate. But I'm not sure whether I'm a trucker or not. This is causing serious reflection, and time -- I think -- will be key in sorting it all out. Breathe. Drink water. Practice what matters.