A clean slate.
Afterward, I met people at Jimmy’s, put on a good face, drowned out the sorrow.
Afterward we ate and then headed to Superfine in DUMBO.
All such a blur!
An eye for an eye.
And how long it took me to see that they are my demons, not the world’s.
And I don’t want to change that, it’s who I am.
And I think it really helped her.
Aren’t mine just silly anxieties, puffy clouds that dissipate when you touch them?
Boom, boom, boom.
But anyway, it’s only temporary.
But good food, great sex.
But I will miss him so much.
But it also felt like that supposed moment right before death, when your entire life flashes before your eyes.
But maybe that says more about me than about them.
Completely and totally broken, for good.
Every moment now feels very full and I love that.
Everything is like a blur!
Everything is so intense right now.
Fiercely independent but also loyal.
Find something to do there?
Generosity is important, work toward this.
Give it up.
He drank three beers and ordered French fries; I had one beer and apple pie.
He hasn’t cooked for me in a long time.
He was so strong and reassuring and encouraging in a way I’ve never seen him be before.
Here’s one: me sitting in a café in Paris, dressed in a nice blouse, skirt, bare legs, wooden-soled sandals, lipstick.
I am only now realizing what I have, what is here for me.
I am paralyzed without a laptop.
I can’t stop writing!
I feel uptight, tense.
I hope it’s not cheesy but it probably will be.
I leave for India on Sunday.
I liked it but not loved.
I loved it; was exhilarating!
I must be submitting myself to this in order to avoid tackling something in my life.
I’m almost too tired to write.
I’m doing everything, all at once, and it’s confusing.
I’m glad to be alive, I want it all.
I’m so fucking tired of being on schedule, all the time.
I can’t believe how I can go on loving him more and more, despite all his faults.
I can’t imagine running a marathon and losing my legs.
I feel sad.
I must learn to be a more relaxed person: softer, gentler.
I need a new setting, new places to explore, new things to learn.
I think I know, but maybe I don’t really know.
I think so.
I want to read more poetry.
I write by candlelight.
Instead of working on that, I’m sitting here complaining into this adorable leather-bound notebook like a spoiled little girl.
It comes naturally to me.
It makes me so happy.
It refreshed my desire to do journalism.
It was a very strange day for me.
It was strong and it will send me forward.
It went very well, felt natural.
It’s a scary thought, in some ways.
It’s posh, chic, beautiful.
It’s selfish and stupid and disgusting.
Kind of staring into space.
Let it go!
Life is full.
Listen to yourself, work hard, stop making excuses.
Maybe I should just let myself be wild.
My body feels open and good.
My consciousness is stimulated, active.
My house feels crowded, strange.
Nature is perfect.
Nice, but kinda boring, same old.
Noise bothers me.
Now, a new thought: am I bored, done with New York?
OH, feeling a little better.
Or am I stuck?
Or should I stop expecting because it is more realistic that they may never come?
People are strange obstacles.
Rose early to get to New Jersey for my great-aunt’s funeral.
Snowstorm on country roads after visiting the Norman Rockwell museum.
Someday that will be me.
That was an interesting, thankfully brief glimpse of the murky, networked, literary machine.
The bombs went off in a section of the race that had been dedicated to Newtown families.
The food was dismal but the gathering was worthwhile.
The important stuff has been said.
The moon is full tonight.
Then again maybe I should just dive in.
Then came home, made Passover dinner for twenty people!
There is agency, and divine will, too; they are not separate.
Then just before she made a move to get a divorce, he came at her with a baseball bat.
There was a sinking feeling, and jealousy.
There will be attitude change.
There will be dancing.
They are strong, brilliant women, teaching by example.
This country, everything drying up.
Today’s lesson was, don’t try to be in two places at once.
Typing furiously on my laptop with a glass of wine beside it.
Use less mind.
We are having a spell of very cold weather.
We need to make the most out of this experience.
We were laughing and yelling so much that the hostel owner had to tell us to go to bed.
Went for a long run after babysitting.
What do I hope to accomplish?
What will be said about me in the future?
What’s holding me back?
Where could I possibly fit in in the literary world?
Will be challenging and rewarding.
Will I cry, feel lonely?
Will I ever get myself out of this mess?
Work is going well.
Wrote a blog post.
You know how to do this.