hot damn, i'm back

apparently its been so long since i posted here (i'm thinking close to a year at this point), that blogging has completely grown up, moved out, and started smoking pot while trying to "find himself". jesus. anyway, sorry about all that. in a nutshell, i finished all that law school nonsense, spent a brutal summer studying for the bar exam, put about 9000 miles on the matrix driving around the country, and got a real bona fide job and joined the workforce as a productive member of society. in fact, i got sworn in to the ny state bar today, which was simultaneously mind-numbingly lame and also rather touching and poignant. to prove i'm a real grown-up, we're also looking at buying an apartment, but thats mostly been an endless series of disappointments, coupled with my calling people bitches (perhaps undeservedly, but i just really enjoy it).

i guess what made me think of coming back here was my listening to music (which i don't get to do much of these days) and watching videos on my computer, and i was at regina spektor's site, and kind of missing the idea of playing music. i've been obsessed lately with the notion of having a piano in my as-yet-unacquired new apartment, and i became nostalgic (ok, i had typed nogalstic and couldn't understand why that was wrong; am i dyslexic?) for the days back when this blog was new and my life was depressing and i sought creative outlets to give me something to fill my life. my life now is pretty fulfilling, but unspeakably dull. am i just old? i work, i play with my dog, and i sleep. occasionally i watch lots of tv. i think i should make an effort to keep up with my hobbies a bit better. i think this sudden urge might have to do with the fact that A isn't here; does anyone else notice how much free time you suddenly have when the significant other is away? he's a freaking time vortex. or something. i don't think i quite know what a vortex is. regardless, time suddenly seems to stop when i'm alone, and its quite relaxing. but there's a chance that A has been imprisoned by a crazy neighbor (i might have to explain that later, but anyway), so maybe i shouldn't be reveling too much. i must send out the hounds now.

on letting go, and in defense of james frey

it has been a tumultuous month. we've lost kelsey, we've lost jackson, i've lost a bit of my sanity, i wonder about my humanity. for now, the pain is fresh, as are the memories, and i see clear images in my mind of faces, i can replay wonderful clips of a jackson kooky dance. but i know that, with time, those memories will begin to fade, as so many already have. and while we might know that we should move on, let go, there is the part of you that can't, or won't. despite what may be proper, or healthy, or normal, i think there is always that part that is afraid to let go, afraid that we will not be honoring the past, not respecting those who are gone. Memories are funny in that way. a function of loss, perhaps inevitable with the passing of time, but perhaps deliberate. If we really wanted to hold on forever, could we? Could I write down every conceivable memory that i want to cherish, and years later read the words and still remember the emotions, the laughs, the tears? Or would it be reading someone else's account, watching someone else's experiences? And even if we could, should we? is it freakishly unproductive to dwell on the past? I'm sure many people would say yes. But those who have experienced loss of any substantive kind i think understand that its not an easy answer. There are certainly plenty of bits of my past that i would love to forget, but there have also been those snippets of life that i cling desperately to. But, with each day, month, year, i lose those snapshots. i can't remember conversations that i thought i would remember forever, memories that were so strong and tangible are now nebulous sensations. sometimes I don't even know if they were real or just the product of an overly indulgent imagination and a wistful heart.

which i suppose brings me to james frey, the oh-so-infamous-author of a million little pieces. when this book first came out, i loved it. i told everyone to read it. there was something so visceral about his writing, that you could feel it, it was in the room with you. at the time, people criticized the book as being too convenient to be real, and of course, it turns out they were right. But truth-- whatever it may be-- isn't always the most important thing to me. (that itself might not be true, which creates an interesting problem.) plus, i thought anyone who believed the book as 100% factually accurate had to be a bit of a simpleton.

i had purchased frey's second book, my friend leonard, months ago, but hadn't gotten around to reading it (and admittedly, wanted the uproar over "pieces" to die down before i was spotted holding a large pink book bearing the author's name). i didn't want to read it. i was in a place in life where i just wasn't ready to get pulled back into his (evidently fabricated) world. but, due to a certain common carrier whose primary color is brown, i found myself short of reading material, and found "leonard" on the bookshelf. my recent insomnia has kept me wide-eyed until it starts to get light, and so i've been making good progress on the book (its a fast read, insomnia or not). anyway, without getting into too much detail and ruining the story, james's character has difficulty letting go of someone. he goes through the tremendous conflict of choosing to move on, and struggles with the guilt of it. And even though you may have been the one who was left, finally admitting that you are letting go too is painful. you're giving up part of yourself, the part you gave away to that other being. its not a single emotion, its fear, anger, sadness, hope, confusion, and a complete sense of loss. i wonder now if it is something to do with your own foolishness for having loved something you could lose. its admitting that maybe there is in fact not just one love. it crushes our fantasies of a single love, an undying love, a love that surpasses all and endures everything. it takes one of the strongest emotions we can experience, and transforms it into a transient vulnerable fleeting thing. letting go is simultaneously an act of weakness and an act of strength. for someone like me, who tends to hold on a little too long, its a choice that is never wholly admirable. but it is, and i am strong enough to admit that i am weak enough that it is hard.

another day, another still-empty pocket

i'm officially at the one week countdown for my externship. i told my boss this today, and she freaked out. i get neglected a bit at work sometimes, which is more or less ok by me, even though it makes me doubt my self-worth (sniff...), but evidently she didn't mean for it to be that way. still, its all moving fast. i can't believe its april, and that its finally goddamn spring. which of course means tax season, and ammbo and i today filed our taxes saying that we owe 8K to the great fucking nation of the united states. FUCK! That's hella irritating. anyway. it was a great way to ruin an otherwise FANTASTIC afternoon. you know those early summer days where you get out, and there's a very special smell, its like the smell of people getting off work and going "ahhhh..." and making plans to sit outside for drinks and wear green espadrilles (or similar). i love it. its what makes new york so great. new york is pretty miserable in the winter, so i love it in the summer when it stays light late and every day is an occasion to go out and make the most of the day. maybe that's it. summer encourages you to make the most of everything, because you know winter will come knocking, inevitably. ah well.

in other news, i'm reading "the inheritance of loss" which is supposed to be a great book and at times it is great and i love it, but i've only got a small bit left and i feel like it hasn't gone anywhere, but then, maybe the journey to nowhere in particular is the whole point of it. i've been reading like a savage animal lately, mostly as a means of avoiding the dreadful task of researching and writing on gender crimes.

i'm also addicted to sitting on my deck when the weather is nice. its not so much that i am tanning for vanity's sake; rather, i think of myself as an extra-large cat who lives to laze in the sun. i missed a lot of classes in college because i was enjoying lying on my bed in wien when the afternoon sun hit it.