Here I am stuck in this dirty little town with trees falling away, towed under with ignorance and greed. They treat the people the way they treat the trees and all the children here are mad and lost, running around in philosophical crisis trying to find a self amongst the lost. They cannot be held, cannot be tied down even with friendship, The few who break free become outcasts even to their parents, who turn on them like mother rabbits to devour their young–wretched awash in the scent of human. Two years I’ve spent bouncing amongst the dead, deciphering the hieroglyphics of youth smeared vermillion crusting at the edges of their perception. Beyond that, a denial which will not focus in our peripheral. I’ve sat for two years and, unable to find analysis beyond the self and creativity beyond elitism, began to watch the way the two bounced off each other and swirled in hypocrisy, casting rays of sunlight and madness into thick glares across my vision. Two years and “enough”…she screams it into the open chasm and silence falls like a stage curtain. Eyes closed and smeared with great sweeping blind spots that take the form of Christ. The lose of sight has become a miracle, an act of martyrdom. You are not a martyr, you laugh to yourself. Two years and back to the beginning with you? Hardly, you know this already… You are not a martyr. But the words are not meant for you. You cannot save them but you can escape. “You are not a martyr.” And the words came echoing back…”enough”.

Oh the “-ish”, for old times sake. Looking back through the pages and pages of previous blogging between this one and the 2003 one, I’m amused. I begin to see glimmers of things that I supposably lost over the ages: strength, heart, confusion, innocence (he he he…truthfully though, the ability to let myself be hurt) and I wonder if they all cannot be found within me still. I don’t see myself in the same light as the girl I read about. There is a level of chaos that was there that’s been replace by responsibility. Have I choosen to hide myself behind my family? Is there a way to break back out of this?

So now I don’t even know what to do. Hopefully writing this will give me some sort of insight. I just called David to see if he had my ATM card (which is not suppose to be) because I found a twenty dollar charge on my account from today. Since I was working from home and hadn’t left, something was up. I called. He was upset. “I just got pulled over…ran a stop sign…yada, yada, yada.” ANOTHER $150. I just got done reconsidering kicking him out from the last stint he pulled…lossing $140 at the fucking black jack table in three hours and lying about hitting my account for the cash. And the one before that… laying in bed curled up with a friend with his hand on her ass. And before that…$2,000 in credit card debt in two weeks. And before that…more money shit. And before that…more girl shit. And before that…dropping out of classes. And from when it started last summer when he all but dissappeared the week or two he went to the Koch cup, rarely called, talked non-stop about some chick when he did and finally came home and announced that he would be joining the Coast Guard (just like the some chick was in). Fuck him, fuck his some chicks and fuck his funding. His is out screwing around while I bust my ass working and can’t even pay my student loans.

He looks at me “we’re moving up north, i need away from them.” Thinking about the life I had, and how to blend two babies and a boy into the mix does not look promising. We’re heading up in May for K and S’s wedding, so we’ll see how the baby lugging, Starbucks with boy singular, T riding with the family goes. Will I be able to fit back into the rythym of things? The idea of intellectual conversation not rotating around the self sounds promising, of going out to dinner with friends, galleries and shows and art, oh my. But will there be a problem between guy friends and boy singular? Will it cause tension? What jobs? What houses? Boy singular won’t survive there, I know this. We won’t be heading back to Pittsburgh, but maybe I can find the things I love of the old city and mix it with the things he loves from here.