This is a little entry about knowing that you love someone, knowing that they love you, and knowing that it's not your time and that that time will probably never come.

It is strange to feel calm and confident. That though the invitation to be let in closer lingers out there and that it's an invitation I have at times wanted more than anything, I opt not to take it.

Sad brown eyes and a torso I fit perfectly into aren't enough. Beautiful songs dedicated to me and a confession of love aren't enough. I think myself a year ago would think I'm crazy but I feel pretty good. Slightly malnourished, tired, sentimental, and lonely, but pretty good.

Here's to all the people that took the invitation because it was right and good and not just because they wanted it.

Have gun will travel.

That is what was written on the side of my parents' car as they left their wedding and headed to New Orleans for their honeymoon 40 years ago.

My dad clutched a paper bag in his hand that functioned as his luggage for the trip. What a different time.


I'm in washington state, which after having some distance from, I'm completely in love with and immersed in many trips down memory lane.

I met a person that I went to high school with that is running his own music/art/clothing/coffee shop in Kennewick who seems to have modeled his entire demeanor after Ian Mackaye.




More to come on that later.


I'm headed to the woods. Oh woods, how I love thee.

I feel far away from home. Even if all my friends in Seattle are busy and spread out, it is intensely clear just how spread out we all are right now.

You know what I hate? Trying to do family stuff when feeling heartbroken. I hate feeling distracted from the people that are the most important to me by people that have fallen short of figuring out how to love or show it. I'm going back for my parents 40th (!) wedding anniversary and have been mostly worrying about what will happen if I run into tyler and what's worse, what will happen if I don't?

I felt much clearer and stronger about this two weeks ago. Then he sent me an email saying that all he could think about was me and coming to SF. Then he called 4 days later and said he didn't know if it was a good idea. And I'm asking myself what's more tragic? That this guy is sort of fucking with me, or that I've been letting myself be fucked with for this long.

Two weeks ago, I woke up and reaffirmed my newly single identity, but now, instead of an affirming process, I'm having:

-a stint of smoking cigarrettes
-attempted technological healing via deleting numbers, profiles, emails, MP3's.
-a mopey music fest! Sometimes supplemented by a bath or aforementioned nicotine flare up.
-another high caffeine and white-flour-if-anything-diet
-little bursts of anger - with actual picture ripping (there's a first!)

But I don't buy any of this for one second. I know I gotta do it, but really, I mean, de-friending someone via the internet? Just for the record, I'm totally aware of the patheticness. Now someone please give me a latte, a chocolate chip cookie, and a carissa's weird album.

thank you.