Wednesday, July 07, 2004


back on the chain gang

Portland is cool and dry compared to Austin, Portland is lovely and my tomato plant has ripened. I've already been back to work, just for a few minutes.

I slept on the plane, slept and slept and slept, and I read The New Yorker, too. It was an uneventful series of take-offs and landings, except the flight attendant on the Austin to Las Vegas leg kept telling jokes and singing songs over the intercom. I was too tired in the morning to be sad. Perhaps I'd already been sad enough the night before.

Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my dad dying. I'm always aware of it, but still the grief creeps up on me in some strange ways. For instance, the fear of abandonment sneaks into other areas of my life. After the honeymoon is over, life sets in, and distance. There are different types of distance. Distances that can be closed, distances that can be lessened, distances that are unbridgable.

I'm going to lie down now, and rest a bit. I can't quite process.

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