Unrulie

Jeanette Winterson said these things

[Bad habits are just as comforting as good habits.]

When we make a change, it’s so easy to interpret our unsettledness as unhappiness, and our unhappiness as the result of having made the wrong decision. Our mental and emotional states fluctuate madly when we make big changes in our lives, and some days we could tight-rope across Manhattan, and other days we are too weary to clean our teeth. This is normal. This is natural. This is change.

I wonder how much of my life I’ve spent painstakingly editing letters I know that I’ll never send.
Here’s the most recent:

I looked back at the note today and I’m appalled at how tasteless and wildly inappropriate it was for me to send that. At the time I was trying to focus on the good parts that was left, seeking closure- and then tacked on some extra insane shit because who am I if I don’t shoot myself in the foot and then stick it in my mouth regularly. Forgive me. I’m very very immature in matters of the heart. I fall in love with everything and everyone very easily and it’s okay for me. I like it this way, but sometimes I say things I shouldn’t. I’m sorry for being so irresponsible with everybody and everything. I know you can handle it, I’m just sorry for **** cuz I just don’t know what she thinks and I miss her from the deep deep bottom of my heart. I’m not asking for forgiveness or even a response…I’m just trying to get out everything I need to in lieu of actually seeing y’all. I reckon y’all ain’t gonna contact me again so I want to say everything I need to say. I also reread ********’s and my conversation. It still makes no rational sense to me why everything happened the way it did. I know there’s probably no coming back from telling someone to eat shit and die….but I’m going to try to write something to her anyway….unless you write back and tell me absolutely not to. And then I’ll either pray you will at least see me for coffee or respectfully disappear.

Recharge.

I’ve spent 4 days cat sitting in a small California beach town.

I haven’t been really left alone for more than a couple hours in over a month.

My heart is refilled and bursting with joy that I’ve had this time to myself. It’s like I was sick as a dog but not being able to acknowledge it without giving up the roof over my head.

More importantly, walls around me, since nobody worries about rain this time of year, but goddam if my hood in Oakland isn’t the spookiest place I’ve ever walked around. Walking down the street in the morning on a Tuesday is risky business, and I don’t scare easily. I’ve stayed at and lived in hoods like Guatemala City, Mexico City, Detroit, Richmond, DC, New Orleans, Istanbul, aaaand a couple spanish gypsy camps. I’ve never been as intuitively spooked as I am here. I can’t justify or reason why necessarily, but the feelings there.

But back here in Pacifica, I’ve been on day rides, day hikes, night walks and night bikes.

The weathers been beautiful. And I’m glad you weren’t here. Hah

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Writing

I think caffeine and booze and food and weed are actually totally holding me back from writing freely. Sobriety actually is a good artsy friend.