Monday, October 25, 2010

Yet another

big change. New job for Robin. After 32 years of his own
business, he is now working for someone else. Punching
a time clock, working seconds, packing a dinner, trying
to acclimate.

We somehow had it in our heads that at 55 (his age), he'd
be thinking about how he would keep the business going
for another 6 years and then retire. But it has not worked
out that way.

I realize now that I can't come here and write anything about us.
It feels like betrayal. I suppose there are just some things
that must live inside you until you no longer live. Things others
will never know.

I want someone to know about what it is I am and feel. But I can't
do that--let anyone in. I shall go to my grave with what needs to be
said. Maybe.

I must think there is something special about what it is that is happening
to me and has happened or I would not feel so pulled.

But I am just too fucking tired to do anything about it tonight.

Damn.

Give up or give in or go nuts.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Back home

Left last Sunday for savannah GA.
Loved it there. Wish we would have had more time.

Then on to Patriot's Point, SC (in charleston harbor)
to step foot on the Yorktown. Emotionally draining.

Then downtown charleston the next day and on to Asheville
NC. Biltmore on Thursday. Thomas Wolfe home on Friday
Oct. 22.

Then on to nashville to stay with Lauren.

Then home.

Really need to get back on the habit of writing.

I want to say things that will hurt, so I just don't say anything,

Strange dreams. My dad working in a hardware shop.
Me on the doctor's exam table. I think I am most likely
doomed, but I seem too optimistic and the doctor seems
so cheerful.

*

had this episode at Biltmore. Can't explain it, really. Thought
I was having a stroke or something. Heart beating very fast.
Head with this strange vise-like feeling all around it. No pain.

The only time I feel good and unafraid and capable of doing anything
is when I am half tanked.

I don't want to give up. I don't believe in the we all have a destiny
or time or whatever. We fucking have to keep believing. I don't
want to be so beaten down that I can't keep believing.

there is so much to what little I say. It rolls through my head
all day. I am just not up to the getting it on the page.

what is the point? if the point is to get better, then i need to do it.

Fuck. Don't matter. Still so damned stuck.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

First time I have cried in a very long time.

Dad would have been 87 tomorrow.

So much has changed since his death. It seems
so little has felt right. I think many things have
been right. I just don't know how to let them be
what they are.

I feel lost. Alone. I wrote those same words many
times when he was alive. They are the same words.
But what they mean is not the same.

I hope I get some sleep.