Affluentialism

THIS COULD HAVE BEEN ME!!!

2007-01-21T17:07:00.000-08:00

Ok so I was never really in danger of marrying this tool, but good fucking god this is painful to see. This is his wedding and he didn't even tuck his shirt in. And what's the story with her dress? And his face? At one time I ranked making out with him in the back of a Capital 6 theatre while watching the Cable Guy and then making out again on the way home at the Malahat lookout on the hood of his ford tempo - as one of the highlights of my life.
Even better, some of my first memories of J are about her being the 'other' girl who had a crush on him.
Good for them, may they have many children who peak at 16.
Crosswalk
(I forgive myself for this bitchiest of posts because I have very cleverly hidden their identities)

to discover that it was all for nothing

2007-01-18T19:49:00.000-08:00

This is a bad time to restart this silly blog. My mood is foul. I have every good reason to believe that my desired end to this arduous second degree will not play out as I had hoped. Or rather, as I had apparently gambled. As those of you who have had the misfortune to listen to the last 18 months of moaning know - I have turned what should be a job (that of RA) into a lifestyle because I was under the impression that that is what was required to sufficiently impress the boss into agreeing to support me in any endeavor I chose to pursue. Not the case evidently. He is not likely to agree to supervise me which effectively leaves me royally fucked.
The thing is, aside from desperately wanting the last year and half back - I basically don't care. On the plus side, I intend to spend this new found spare time (for as soon as his decision comes down formally, I will no longer be in his employ and will have a glorious amount of scheduling freedom) writing with J and generally self-indulging until I can graduate and walk out of here backwards with the middle fingers a'blazin'.

To catch up

2006-02-09T16:27:00.000-08:00

It's been well over a month, and I regret that. I regret having not done a large number of things over the past month. Actually - it's more apt to say that I regret the fact that I've only done one thing in 2006. That thing - of course - is read. My state has been slipping, I feel like I have little control, or rather that I have little ability to see where this is going, which may be the same thing as control ultimately. In two years I will be searching for 4x's (that's awkward to say isn't it?) comfort zone because it's real. There's nothing superficial or temporary about that. She's not postponing what she wants in order to spend time doing something that someone else says is important. I'm not as bad as some in that department. My modicum of natural ability in one very specific area of life has led me to my present situation. This is something I don't discount. I'm extremely lucky to be allowed to do what I'm doing. Living on borrowed money and being encouraged to spend all of one's time developing a capacity for 'critical analysis' is pretty fucking rad. But what happens to the days when I do this? I aggregate goals and rewards into weeks and months. In the meantime there are all those days to live and I'm thrilled that one of us is doing just that. I agree with 3-way that Duncan is a better town than Victoria. I was stunned this summer by how gorgeous the valley is. I understand for the first time what the desire to go home is. My mom left her hometown for the same reasons that we left ours, and I never understood why she wanted to go back so badly. Being a kid in the valley was fun. I remember the weather, the trees, the ocean, driving down cobble hill road at sunset and barely even noticing the farms because they were all so familiar. I would get off on all of that again. Maybe kids and adults have more in common than we assume. So 3-way, all it takes to get us all back there is a wedding...although I actually don't know if I could handle the four of us in Duncan again. It would be overwhelmingly emotional. Just reading about us at the arb kind of choked me up. I think what we need instead as a goal is to buy some property on one of the gulf islands, galiano maybe, and make plans to meet there every year. That would be awesome. Then we could go live there when we're old. Shot-gun not dealing with firewood - I suck at firewood. I'm pretty good at brushing away spiders on the path to the outhouse though. Not that we'd have an outhouse, but I generally volunteer to keep 'wildlife' at bay so that Hamcake will agree to come. Gin and tonics and bbq'd ribs while on our giant deck overlooking the water at dusk in 4 rocking chairs...
Wish me luck girls - grad school is a mother fucker.
Loves and misses more than I care to think about
Crosswalk

To rock the nostalgia scene

2005-12-23T13:47:00.000-08:00

3-way says:
hows mom?
Crosswalk says:
good good
Crosswalk says:
I was telling her about my new plan
Crosswalk says:
and she didn't wig
Crosswalk says:
which was good
3-way says:
and what is your new plan?
Crosswalk says:
I'm going to have a baby
3-way says:
ummmm...
Crosswalk says:
after grad school
3-way says:
oh?
3-way says:
ok
3-way says:
do you have a donor lined up?
Crosswalk says:
so like 2008ish
Crosswalk says:
no I don't
Crosswalk says:
but if I'm not in a relationship then I'm just going to bone the hottest smartest fella I can find
Crosswalk says:
I'll blog him even
3-way says:
perfect!
3-way says:
pahaha
3-way says:
nice
Crosswalk says:
likely a black dude
3-way says:
interesting
Crosswalk says:
interracial children are the cutest
3-way says:
j******* might be able to hook ya up
Crosswalk says:
lol
3-way says:
very true
Crosswalk says:
I'm stoked
Crosswalk says:
it'll be interesting
Crosswalk says:
so april and I decided that your wedding will be the funnest ever
3-way says:
paha..i know!
3-way says:
but what made you decide this?
Crosswalk says:
it just would be
Crosswalk says:
because we're all awesome
3-way says:
paha...yes...but why wouldnt all your weddings be the funnest ever too?
Crosswalk says:
mmm
Crosswalk says:
I can't get married
Crosswalk says:
it would cost too much
Crosswalk says:
too many people in too many different places
Crosswalk says:
how do you merge halifax and victoria?
Crosswalk says:
you just can't
Crosswalk says:
and what if the dude was from somewhere in between?
Crosswalk says:
and we met here?
Crosswalk says:
too complicated
alanna says:
paha..yeah...well i fully intend to marry in italy
3-way says:
please shoot me if you ever receive an invitation to my wedding in vic
Crosswalk says:
lol
3-way says:
unless ive found some gem of a place that no one has ever seen before
Crosswalk says:
royal roads
Crosswalk says:
pahahahaha
3-way says:
i would rather die than get married at arbutus, or something like that
Crosswalk says:
you can't get married at the same place you fucking graduated
3-way says:
pahahaha
Crosswalk says:
or your class did
Crosswalk says:
why not just get married in the cowhigh library
3-way says:
yeah, ill rent out the gym at ccc
Crosswalk says:
SOCIAL LOUNGE
3-way says:
ahaha
Crosswalk says:
coffee on the moon?
3-way says:
ahaha...bc access!!!
Crosswalk says:
yeah
Crosswalk says:
yes yes yes yes
Crosswalk says:
stand on top of the bump
3-way says:
pahaha...total!!
Crosswalk says:
or inside a shopping cart
3-way says:
done and done!
3-way says:
aaaaahahahahaha
3-way says:
ahahaha
Crosswalk says:
and after you say I do we'll wheel you around
3-way says:
pahaha
Crosswalk says:
lolol
3-way says:
then we'll all engange in a game of kick the can
Crosswalk says:
and someone will eat a penny
3-way says:
ahahaha...and peirce their eyebrow with a safety pin
Crosswalk says:
and we'll video tape so we can make fun of Hamcake's hair later
3-way says:
ahahahaha
3-way says:
awesome!
Crosswalk says:
fuck
3-way says:
and drink slurpees!!!!
Crosswalk says:
bring banana board
Crosswalk says:
and hot lips
3-way says:
ahaha...ill have to invitre tyler barry for that one
3-way says:
pahaha
3-way says:
hotlips in slurpees
Crosswalk says:
right right, because it's a wedding
3-way says:
ahahaha
3-way says:
right
Crosswalk says:
can we be on mushrooms?
3-way says:
we have to be
3-way says:
then we'll all walk around trying to find a party or someplace warm to hang out
3-way says:
maybe see whats happening above now showing
Crosswalk says:
play some airhockey
3-way says:
hang out in front of the 7 11
3-way says:
totally!
Crosswalk says:
play alot of air hockey
Crosswalk says:
cruise to centenial
3-way says:
throw around some bouncyballs in the ccc then try to find some skaters
Crosswalk says:
fuck man
Crosswalk says:
fuck
3-way says:
and dare eachother to ask them the time
3-way says:
aaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha
3-way says:
!!!
3-way says:
ahahahahaha!!!
Crosswalk says:
do some jiving
3-way says:
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahaha
3-way says:
with juliens mom
Crosswalk says:
and end the night at slice of life
Crosswalk says:
the reception can be there actually
3-way says:
then to boston pizza when everything else closes
Crosswalk says:
but on the way lie down at the train station and form a swastika
3-way says:
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha
3-way says:
pahaha
3-way says:
]
Crosswalk says:
try to get someone to boot for us
3-way says:
holy shit
3-way says:
jesse scott
Crosswalk says:
while we roam drunk around blockbuster
3-way says:
pahaha
Crosswalk says:
or hide on the floor of someone's stank ass car
3-way says:
i was just gonna say!
Crosswalk says:
maybe there's someone in the trunk
Crosswalk says:
maybe you...since you're the bride
3-way says:
ha...it seems appropriate
Crosswalk says:
it really does
Crosswalk says:
but likely you'd be the DD
3-way says:
ill pop out with streamers and shit
3-way says:
ahaha
3-way says:
true...that might be hard to pull off...driving from the trunk
3-way says:
but if anyone could do it, it wiould be me
Crosswalk says:
no one said you'd be sober
Crosswalk says:
just the DD
3-way says:
paha...exactly
Crosswalk says:
and we're on mushrooms remember
3-way says:
and i am invincible when im drunk
3-way says:
oh right...even better
Crosswalk says:
aren't we all?
3-way says:
drivings awesome when on mushrooms
3-way says:
best wedding ever
Crosswalk says:
drunkamaflashamaweddingmobile
3-way says:
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamazing!
3-way says:
ahahaha
Crosswalk says:
we're hilarious
3-way says:
ill have my wedding dress over my head
3-way says:
awesome!!
Crosswalk says:
lololololol
3-way says:
seriously...this wedding rules
Crosswalk says:
told ya
Crosswalk says:
best wedding ever
3-way says:
paha...you are sooo smart
Crosswalk says:
yeah
Crosswalk says:
it's true
Crosswalk says:
and this conversation is going to be blogged

To fall in love with a town everyone says is the worst place ever

2005-11-28T08:46:00.000-08:00

I spent this weekend in O-town, our nation's capital, in order to both visit the darling ex, and get the fuck out of dodge for a couple of nights. And shockingly - I loved it, like really really loved it. I can imagine that I was easily wooed because of the contrast to the town I live in, which is lovely at times, but freakishly disgusting at others. I realize that I belong to no 'scene' of any sort - likely never will again (relief of all reliefs actually) and that places like O-town could likely provide the right amount of stimulation. I keep forgetting that in 2 years I'll be a working stiff - like with a real 8-4 office/conference call/ lunch meeting/ high tax bracket sort of job- and that this means the end to getting dressed at noon, not wanting to leave the house because I don't want to spend money and feeling like I should have a fuller social calendar. There will be a whole new set of frictions between my desired lifestyle and my professional obligations. O-town is only a couple of hours from both toronto and montreal, and as a single girl with a steller income, weekend shopping trips complete with lovely hotels and fine dining won't stress out the budget at all. Neither will weeks spent in london here and there for the same reasons.
I should comment on the time spend with the darling ex while I'm at this. It was great to see him as always. I'm not sure how 'romantic' we are anymore, which is fine for now. We each have alot of work to do in the next little while, and our connection isn't likely to change through that period. We're great friends, I love him dearly, and I hope that we live in the same city again someday. That's all I really have to say about it at this point. If he joins the army next year (an option he intends to 'explore') then I'm sure I'll have a more predictable Crosswalk stream of judgements to put forth.
Oh and even though everyone now knows - 3 cheers for getting into grad school!!!
Crosswalk.

To witness the genius that is us - and the craptastic grammer that comes with statements like that.

2005-11-21T20:46:00.000-08:00

3-way is absolutely correct. Fucking and blogging is a rad idea. I ducked out of that potential last wednesday when I up and grabbed my purse without explanation, and hauled ass out Craptopia in a blind run while shouts of "Hey Crosswalk - you alright man?" could be heard through the bar - all so I wouldn't go home with the hot punk (not a contradiction in terms as it turns out) for something to write about. And as 3-way and I established tonight - this blog is the only writing I do - so who was I kidding? I was actually contemplating boning this dude so I could blog about it. I felt like a nihilistic creep so I made a less than graceful exit. Never again ! she tells me. Apparently next time I'm staring through a pint glass at someone and thinking "would this make a good story....?" I should go for it. That's right, I just said "go for it". I think this week should provide me more than enough opportunities to 'go for it' as the darling ex is in province and soon to be in town and soon to be in my bed. Thank fucking god. I can't wait to blog the ex. That's the new lingo for this particular activity then. "See that guy with stupid hat? Yeah, I blogged him last week" or "Whenever I get drunk around *insert fella's name here* I feel like bloggin" So this week I'm going to blog him good....ohhhh yeah.....

(creepy already isn't it? - oh and 3-way - you first)

Crosswalk.

Must Have

2005-11-20T16:11:00.000-08:00

K
This dress is symbolic of what I hope is an impending lifestyle change. Maybe (ok so more like 'absolutely') it's a total fantasy, inspiring a scene where the men are sexy and well put together, the women are brilliant and lovely, everyone is well read, decidedly 'adult', hilarious, hedonistic - but not retarded about it, and (least likely of all) down to earth. I will wear this dress when I run with that crowd. I've included the pictures so that you will all recognize me when I'm fabulous, not just pretending to be fabulous, while in my imaginary combination of 1927 nyc and 2006 montreal. Come with me ladies - the clothes are awesome.
Sincerely,
The 16 year old that still lives inside Crosswalk.

To understand how they fail.

2005-11-14T18:53:00.000-08:00

I'm only writing tonight because I feel guilty about not writing enough. Literally nada has gone down since the last post. I've discovered that Firefly is a great show, and that the worst blogs now include audio (if you can stand it - I highly recommend Wil Wheaton's as an example of how to take this medium much too far). This weekend I took myself out on a date. Got all gussied up and everything and saw a fantastic film 'good night and good luck'. The next night I drank a bottle of gin and ate a ham in honour of les guerres mortes. Fitting tribute I think. I'm polishing off that bottle now and thinking about a time when most of the 18-30 year old men were hauled away to do who knows what (we still don't really know) only to come back insane. I couldn't handle it. The strange thing is that classically you hear of women and other remaining family assuming that their boys would come home safe, and that the dead would always be someone else's son/brother/husband/beau. I learned that on the Wonder Years. Yet, when I imagine any of the men I know and am close to in any of the afforementioned capacities going off to some war - the scary part is that I know they'd be the first ones to come home in a box. My dad would have tried to make a deal with the nazis involving seal blubber from newfoundland as an aphrodesiac or some such bullshit - and gotten shot in the head. Or more likely, would have gotten his fellow trenchmates to invest in a period scheme and ultimately been shot in the head. My brother would have done every drug he could get his hands on, fallen in love with retarded peasant girl along the way and died of syphilis. I fear the same fate (although somehow involving pagan id politics) would have befallen my darling ex. My grandfather is the biggest dude ever so he's an easy target. My stepfather would have shot himself in the foot to try to get sent home but then would have been too embarassed to tell anyone and would have died of gangreen. I could go on. The point is, I have never gotten to know a male well, who I could believe for a second would have made it home. Is that weird?
On other thought trains...I'm quite concerned about hamcake as she's gone somewhat awol.
I'm counting down until the x comes to town. I will think of an adequate nickname for him shortly enough.
Crosswalk.
PS, collecting vintage erotic photos is my new hobby - eye catching no? you expected more from the blog because of the picture no?

Woot!

2005-11-01T13:43:00.000-08:00

It's done, the grad school app is in, and now I just have to sit tight for 3 weeks and patiently await the decision. I'll be somewhat disheartened if I don't get in. Or I may be totally embarassed and unwilling to go back to work with my chin up. I won't even think about it until the decision comes down.
I look forward to reading HamCake's novel. In fact, I think I will write the prefaces for all subsequent editions. I'll write articles about it. "The Politics of HamCake's Bildungsroman", "Political Imagination and Loser Boyfriends: An Analysis of HamCake's Early Writings", "Building Social Capital with an Ancestral Visa" etc etc etc. The film will be excellent, but the HBO miniseries will be even better. What needs to happen now is the building of a collection of hard copy correspondance between us so that that can be published later. When I win the nobel prize and she wins the pullitzer, people will eat those letters up. I have to start living a more interesting life first... I've started listening to 'Different Class' with regularity again to get me stoked on intrigue and sexual adventurism. It's working I think.
I'm off to drink a mid-afternoon glass of wine alone in celebration of my application. Woot my friends, woot.
Crosswalk

What would DP do?

2005-10-26T20:38:00.000-07:00

I think this is the beginning of some bonafide stress. I've been finding room for 'chill' in everything I've been doing lately, despite the occurance of some decidedly unchill episodes. Running to work at 1 am (wayyyy more than once or twice), knowing that my nearest and dearest was about to move, having substantial second thoughts about the bossman, preparing for visits from both mom and my darling ex, grappling with the sense of impending doom that can only be understood by those who have spent a montreal winter in a cold and drafty apartment, applying for grad school (with 11 days fewer than I had once thought), suffering from a painfully uneventful sex life, and generally worrying about finances - have finally caught up with me. I take solace in the knowledge that I can still find full gratification in simple acts like hanging pretty dresses, scarves, hats and purses in my gorgeously painted closet. And thankfully this time when I seek mental vacations in the warm blue glass of bombay safire, I'll be doing it alone and won't do anything too crazy and destructive. Gone are the days when I could spend the afternoon shopping with money I don't have and then doing dinner, and then 10 drinks with the ladies. Those times were priceless and in the coming months I'll miss them more than I can predict, but it's just too easy to make my platonic family my top priority. I know I'll spend this winter in my room, constantly deconstructing my decisions and trying to answer the question 'why the hell am I doing this again?' I'm about to be busier than I've ever been - doing shit I don't even know that I'll like - for people who regularly disappoint and even offend me - all in the name of 'professionalism'. I'm about to become an overachiever again because a) it's been too long and b) there's no point in doing this line of work unless I'm better at it than everyone else. Meaning that until January I both have to take advantage of this precious spare time, and totally get my shit together so that I'm in tip top form when school starts. Instictively I ask the question in this title and try to envision how my mild hero worship of the pictured lady can provide me with prescription...but then I remember that she knowingly surrounded herself with people and circumstances that were incapable of keeping her satisfied or even remotely happy. So then if I try to figure out how the quaint list of unchill happenings could have been excused one at a time in the name of 'going with the flow' until they all piled up into a hearty mess . I have to ask the dreaded "Crosswalk - what the fuck are you trying to prove?" Is there value in cultivating difficult scenarios hoping that they'll precipitate growth and change and an expanded world view? Really this was all an excuse to put dorothy's adorable mug on my blog - but I swear every word here is true.
Ever yours,
The Serious/Romantic One

if you're gonna hold it, you better do something with it.

2005-10-22T16:05:00.000-07:00

The wise piece of advice featured in the title here is what convinced me to finish painting my room - while laughing my ass off. The ambiguity of it is why it's awesome, and why it applies equally to painting, writing notes, freezies and pizza bagels...and that which needn't be named. My closet was the major project of the day and before I could begin to paint I had to empty of it of things like my infamous lunch box. Let me share something with you now:
Our life
Is but a short strife
During which sometimes we want a knife
Some of us end up with a wife
And then strangle her with a cable
After that I was able
To shove her under a table
Shortly after she was moved to the stable
Where she was eaten by a cow named Mabel
That night I went to the bar
It was there that I heard the police car
The cops burst in and said "There you are!"
I ran, I ran far.
I made up a story but they said "you're a l'ar"
I got up and kicked the balls of the fed
Then he nailed me on the head
with a big mother pipe made of led
It was then that I said
"you'll only catch me when I'm dead!"
The fucker upped and grabbed my Keds
Damn, I wish I'd never been wed
I had a conniption fit
Away from the pigs I had to git
In the asshole's face I did spit
Then I ran and ran and ran for a bit
I refused to stop, I wouldn't quit
It was then that I stumbled upon a pit
Where I currently sit
Wishing that I had my first aid kit
Because by a snake I was bit
etcetcetc.

This jem continues for another stanza but descends into total verb tense chaos. Maybe this is experimental? It has everything that a good story needs: conflict, an engaging and open protagonist with relatable problems, regional dialects, stickin it to the man, and of course - product placements. So it's like the kind of experimental that can only come forth from the minds of two wicked stoned teenagers in a shit-hole town on a friday night. Was this composed while listening to Electric Avenue perhaps (we all know where that was...) For the love of god I hope we were stoned -because if we were - then we were frickin awesome. Regardless, it was published (yes-we thought it worthy of publication) in a rag that used the word 'existential' no less than 3 times in its short 15 pages, and included musings about what it must be like to be a cloud, and a suprisingly witty editorial about call waiting. The only two poems in this publication directly involve murder...something I hadn't noticed until today. The photo above (plucked from google images) features our former habitat's christmas best, an oh so familiar view - complete with the welcoming glow of liquidation world.
As Ham Cake leaves in 2 days, holy mother fuck in 2 days, then naturally we end up in D-town again - in spirit only - and I think I'm finally beginning to miss it. We were fucking hilarious and awesome in the worst town ever - which gives me vast hope. I will write as soon as I'm next drunk about my current life.
Love you all.
Crosswalk.

Beer is a Chocolate Bar for Grown-ups

2005-10-08T18:55:00.000-07:00

Eight-Hundred Times has come over and really done wonders for this blog - and my apartment. Our revelation of the day is that Debbie Travis' Silky Bamboo is the fucking nicest colour ever and has totally transformed my bedroom into a den of fantasticness. The danger now of course is that it will remain 90% done, which is kind of my motto. 90% wouldn't be a bad nickname for me actually, but amongst my peeps one can only self-appoint a nickname if it relates to some insane meal that no one can believe you actually ate. We're cool like that.
I have a few days off, and since my new scene has been 'productivity', I've gotten assloads done. I can barely remember what it was like this summer to never do anything.
This is all the good news. The bad news is that *Jeff*, a darling lady cat that lives with me, is sick as hell and her days may be numbered. Not only does she puke up everything she eats, but as we discovered tonight she has also rubbed her belly bare for reasons we can't fathom. She's always been rather sickly but this seems extreme and is likely to end badly for poor *Jeff*. We all saw it coming, but it sucks nonetheless.
Crosswalk aka 90%

Second Coming

2005-10-06T19:26:00.000-07:00

This weekend when Eight Hundred Times comes over to help me paint the rest of my living room, I shall get her to make my page highly alright - an adjective just used by my darling ex - in the same email in which he suggested that he A) come visit, like soon and B) buy me a webcam so that he can finally get a taste of what 'jessica' was once rumoured to be so good at. Cryptic I know, but the ladies get it. On the one hand his proposed visit is attractive because I have really no sex life to speak of and he and I totally rock the doin-it scene. However, how am I ever to remedy that monopoly unless he stays away for a time and forces me to venture out into the world and find new boys? The problem with new boys seems to be that they become exceedingly smitten, like the near virgin of the summer 2005 - who still calls 3 times a week and in his best Eyeore impression whines (quoted from less than 2 hours ago) "how can I win you back? Transfer buys you flowers...I could buy you flowers...I miss you... I have sausages in my freezer if I thaw them will you come over and eat with me?" and when I refuse to talk about this and just fill the coversation with enthusiasm for my upcoming hair appointment, a move I perceive to be highly obnoxious intentionally so that he won't call again, he has the audacity to engage in the following banality:
Him: You're really great
Me: No, I'm fabulous
Him: You really are fabulous
Me: Yes, this is why the ladies and I didn't invite you out last week, because we're too fantastically fabulous to hang out with pretentious no-funs (a term I coined on the fly)
Him: I don't know if I'm afraid of your fabulousness............(longest pause ever) or if I love it.
Me: Don't much care either way, gots to go eat curry with my fabulous roomate
Him: I can't wait to see you, you're so great.
'Click'
So you see, I'm clearly really fucking bad at seeking out suitable men to occupy my time in interesting ways. My friends, while engaging in more then their fair share of carnal misadventures, seem to be better at it than I. Narcissistic as this analysis may be, it's my blog, and today I'm deeply concerned about my apparent celibacy, so you must suffer through it.
If only I had an adequate picture to accompany this one...
I find out in 10 mins if I am to have a late night meeting with my new boss, and maybe, just maybe, he'll add to this equation.
Crosswalk.
PS, I miss 3-way, she's fun as all hell.

it starts here.

2005-10-01T20:36:00.000-07:00

Good evening girls,
Bygirls I'm naturally referring to the rather small handful of companions who will likely be the only ones to read this. This is my first post on my first blog, and is actually the closest thing to a journal entry I've attempted in longer than I can remember.
Today was marked by Three-Way's departure. A belated and therefore somewhat awkward event that all involved find regrettable, with maybe the exception of her parents. It most certainly signifies the end of an era that I'm not convinced we took full advantage of to begin with. My three closest ladyfriends and I tend to stumble along, falling all over eachother (literally at times), communicating meaningfully in conspiratorial fragments, and being generally sibling-like in our relations. At times the harmony is overwhelmingly comfortable and the idea of just buying a big house to all live in together forever sounds like the best plan going. However, this is not to be case as we all well know. I realize that this sounds like the kind of inner dialogue that one starts after highschool, but I assure you (and myself) that this is profoundly different. We have reinvented our connections 3000 miles from what used to be home, and this my dearests, means everything to me. Three way was right though - all of the discomfort I may feel about this unit of ours breaking up - is perfect. We need to be apart as much as we've ever needed to be together, and I can't begin to tell you how stoked I am that we seem to be on the cusp of genuine adulthood. Something's in the air, for sure, and while I recognize that in a month's time I could find myself in an unimaginable rut - I'm going to trust right now that we are all headed for better things. I forgive myself this most histrionic of initiatory entries because everyone is allowed to be lame on the first go around. Although who fucking knows man, I can be pretty goddamned melodramatic. It proves I'm not dead inside....right? right? right.
Good night ladies,
Keep being awesome.
Crosswalk.