4.12.08

in january, i started keeping a paper journal. the last time i had a paper journal was the summer of 1998, the summer i became cripplingly ill with chickenpox and met dillon. lots of talk of going to the first film festival with him. we went to see a bollywood film (roja?) with mom and becky geagan. the next year and a half was a fantastic fifteen-year-old rollercoaster. spectacular magical fantastic.

i started keeping the paper journal again because, for the past two years or so, i've kept my internet output generalized. the words haven't been empty, but i find that the journalling urge is only satisfied when i can engage with the messy specifics. now the mess lives on my bedside table, a little singularity of reification.

that said, some excerpts, nothing in its entirety:

january 13th

i'm in my apartment in portland, the little place that, wall pulsation aside, is starting to feel like home. i've been living here for almost (but not quite) eight months now. the entire time i've lived here i've known that i have to build the homeness consciously, effortfully. home, i think, comes most easily when there's another person, relative or otherwise, in which to invest one's sense of constancy of place.

so things are effortful. pictures framed, tea purchased, tea drank. things kept clean. small, indulgent housewares for my small, effortfully indulgent place. on empty weekends i sometimes feel badly that my sense of wholeness frequently comes largely from the purchase of material goods -- a new glass for water, a new book, a cup of tea i could have made at home.

still, i can't see where a person's quality of existence can come from if not from their choices about their environment. existence is only the experiences of the present moment. perceptions can be altered, but actions are still made.

i have no conclusions.

january 22nd

we went out to harvard square before we lost ambition, got buzzes on in a cavernous sports bar, then found the border cafe (age-old site of a blurry, colorful photo drama with dillon and, later, renee, with her wickedly sharp boston-girl nails). we ate salty things and got drunker and he told me stories about things that happened in rivers in africa.

february 20th

drove to hanover with ginny today for a business meeting. six hours in the car and big, sweeping skies all the snow curtained on the steep cliffs lining the highway looked like it was made for skiing. this is the second time i've driven through new hampshire and been struck by its difference from maine.

february 24th

a strong memory: looking out the cafe window to newbury street and the boston february faces walking by. anyone could live in beacon hill.

march 2nd

walking through the financial district at night, sweeping through empty streets. it feels glittering under the tall, shining, abandoned buildings. it's the only part of boston i get close to loving.

march 9th

later this morning, walking along the waterfront, everything clean-edged and raw in the fresh, early spring sunshine. water glinting, different waves hemmed in by a floating industrial orange line. blue sky, yellow bulldozers. tonal qualities of the skyline. we walked from there to chinatown, my backpack continually drawing up my shirt and jacket.

in conclusion, i seem to be spending a lot of time in boston.