I spent today quietly immersed in the grey of this sleepy little city.

posted by jeremy on October 06, 2005

I drank coffee, smoked harsh harsh cigarettes, read the ever-amazingly popular King James Bible, pondered the strange stolen kisses of that girl just last night, I missed my friends & considered Austin, considered NOLA. Now I sip whiskey, now I write this. My course isn't clear. How about yours?

Its a slipshod existence, this anti-climax, this life post-catastrophe.

The bitchy majesty of cyclones... It's certainly redefined the parameters of our southern existence. We cover & heal. We are learning to deal, arent we? Or are we? I tire of the internal arguments. I dont want to have to decide. But I am going to have to do just that...

Decide.

I have been listening to an album of previously unreleased songs by Iron and Wine. One song in particular, This Solemn Day, jumps out, keeps dancing. One day you might find a circle of my friends and they'll cry when you walk in. He's singing about a certain death, his own...

Jeremy, what do you want to do with your life? I pose this question to my shaggy self. I have to know. It's my goddam life.

I am growing a winter beard... & I am writing a book about the Bitch. I am considering calling it The Last Perfect Day. The idea is culled from an image caption in Carl Sagan's Cosmos. There are a series of paintings showing Earth several billion years from now; Before, during & after our Sun's inevitable expansion. The first painting is of our world, green & lush... Before the genesis of super-nova, before it all gets swept away, before it all disappears.The idea of this title seems to fit. I remember the last perfect day...

Before it all got blown away.

(But the word on the street is that it's all slowly slowly coming back now.)

I learned today that Rita is the name of the Saint of the Impossible.

What does this mean?

I am writing in a notebook with yellow pages & blue lines. I am sitting happily at a bar I rather dislike. I have $19 & some spare change to my name. I just fixed myself a lunch consisting of wild salmon & lemon couscous chased with a tallboy of that NW fave, Pabst. I am going to finish this blog draft here in just another second & I am going to light another deadly & wonderful cigarette.

I know I'm going to be OK. I am going to be just fine.

I think I might have just made my decision, finally & for real. I don't really belong here, not right now, not like this. Portland is pretty but dull. I would prefer death & dirt right now. Anything more immediate, more real, more than this.

So fuck it, fuck it, when able, I have to go, I'm going, I'm gone.

PS: Deb, I miss you dearly. Its a cold lonely house without you, it is.