DIARY
And since then I’ve been walking on clouds.
I feel as wonderful as I felt miserable before.
In fact, I haven’t felt this wonderful since I met my current girlfriend,
Jessica, almost four years ago now. Every fourth year is special, it seems.
Always the year before major things are meant to happen, it seems. I
guess things are becoming derailed.
Six of the seven I’ve written have already responded, in only five days. Four
of us will work in Chicago this summer. I might even not hate the old city as
much for once.
I’ve left a lot out: the Irish lessons, the stomach aches, the insomnia, the
dirty laundry, and so on and so forth. But one thing has led to another. I
know that this will pass; that I will not feel this wonderful forever; that,
actually, the feeling of joy and contentment I feel right now may disappear in
a week, or even less. I am still grateful to have had it. The Occlusion Group
will happen! And the Nocturnal will still have its play: two actors have
decided to remain involved, and with them, we will choose a new play, one
suitable for our current resources.
Anyway, yes. I miss Flint. i miss it desperately; walking along Grand Taverse
north from McKinley Middle School in the summer sun, the sound of the same old
Eminem song thudding out of the flatbed pickup in my neighbor’s driveway, and
the stars emerging as the sun goes down. I miss it.
But right now there is sustenance in the moments around me. I know that in the
futue, I will say:
“Anyway, yes. I miss Chicago. I miss McKinley Park. I miss stalking in a
sweat through my cluttered apartment with Jane Says, or Scarlet, or Where I End
and You Begin thumping forth from my boom box, the taste of cheap coffee at
eight in the morning as I wait for the computer to boot up in the filing
corner, and Emily tells me about her evening, and the lyrics of all these old
songs, which I’ve neglected for too long.
“I’m in here,
please take me home.
Starla dear,
I’m all alone.
When you can’t decide what’s on your mind it’s clear.
I’m here…”
Good night,
Connor (who will be sleeping with the window open, and the wind coming in, as
the buses go by, tonight)