I left my time zone in San Francisco…
Friends don’t let friends drive voices.
I thought the position of Darth Harvard was already taken.
I read wrong and thought Stephanie’s friend was told to cut all the smiles out of her poems. Like a chain of paper snowmen.
We have an apartment! It’s a beautiful three-bedroom place on the first floor of an older building in Hyde Park–hardwood floors, a sunroom, and more space than I can imagine what to do with. The pure potential of an entirely empty space and trying to visualize how all your stuff, which seems to have become an organic part of your…
A Colorful Presentation of fruit salad in a broken melon a crashed computer a shrunk photo salty noodles & chicken for lunch a thirsty day a sweaty night
Can’t help feeling, sitting here at my old desk in my old room, looking at my fourth grade class picture which somebody’s stuck up on the wall, thinking about moving, that I’m about to become a big experiment in whether “blogging might not ‘add a new level’ of cohesiveness but might simply adhere to preexisting social systems.”
Fellow displaced bloggers all over the place. Nick, that was me waving somewhere over the Sierras. And don’t believe the hype. Stephanie is that glamorous.
Oh, that’s why Jim is jealous of David Foster Wallace.
Nostalgia for the beloved place where you once lived and then left and now live again Yes–and stranger still when you lived in a place and left and then come back to a place that is only adjacent to that place, which is I suppose the nostalgia equivalent of viewing the promised land from the desert.