master cleanse

[i started this on june 30. it's july 23.]


when i went to sleep [on 6/29], i wrote myself a note:
"monday: write about becoming dispassionate."


i haven't written much lately. actually, i haven't written at all lately.

i've tried to commit myself to figuring out why this is (and when i say "trying to commit myself," i essentially mean a rigorous diet of drinking and smoking for the last season or so, and although it isn't taking nearly as devastating an effect on my body or mind as it should be (a waste is a terrible thing to mind), i really do feel like a portion of, well, me has completely burnt away. maybe this is a first step toward regaining that.

when i broke up with jackie on april 13, i didn't think i was making a mistake. she was great, and for all intents and purposes, the few months spent with her make up the most successful relationship i've had thus far. not to say it was the strongest i've ever felt about someone (it wasn't) or the longest i've been with someone (it wasn't) but things were really good for the bulk of it. my mom loved her, i thought i might someday; problem was, it never happened, and we plateaued. breaking up with her was one of the easiest and most difficult decisions i've ever had to make, but i convinced myself i was doing the right thing, and that was all i needed. we weren't falling in love, and after almost three months, i'd somehow expected that to happen by then. it only took one fight, and i lost it. i wasn't necessarily unhappy at that juncture, i just wasn't quite sure what we were doing together anymore; piss drunk on the phone for an hour outside canter's that saturday night, however, i'd made up my mind and i was too stubborn to cut my losses.

over the last three months, i've probably drank or smoked on 90% of the days. i've slept with a couple people; one old, one new. i've gone to new york, arizona and the bay area twice; i'm making my birthright trip to israel in august, followed by a few days in egypt, sandwiched between more downtime in new york. i've convinced myself i'm living in the wrong city (or at least working in the wrong city). i'm rediscovering how much i love photography and the process of framing things every day. i've gotten to play golf again; i played for the first time in almost a year out in scottsdale on a good mixture of pot and coors light and sank an ace. a good friend of mine from college has moved in with michael and i. i've flirted with a few promotions at work, but each letdown stings a little more.

i saw my closest cousin get married in june.

i don't see my parents nearly as much as i did a year ago, i see my brother once every 2-3 weeks; we all live within a couple miles of each other. my old roommate noah, who moved to new york in april to pursue a career as a playwright, moved back a few weeks ago to date and live with jackie; i'm about as comfortable as anyone with this.

i've motivationally fumbled with my ambitions of writing; after all, it requires me to write.

i'm spending my scarce hours with a different, evolving set of people. i hadn't felt genuinely affectionate toward a girl again until a couple weeks ago, and it's not necessarily a favorable situation. for the first time since i've known two of the most important women i met in college, i'm not habitually falling back in love with them after things didn't pan out; they deserve better and i think i've finally learned that lesson.

it's time to move on.