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Egads. I'm nervous. I go to look at an apartment today that is the first "permanent" residence I've considered. Up until this point, it was all temporary and fast measures to achieve independence and security as soon as possible. I contented myself with the "we'll just see how I feel in six months" thing. I feel like it's over. That is strange.
I looked at the thousands of pictures again that Mark had left on the cube
after giving it to me. I am trying to delete some of them. It was very
very very very nostalgic and somewhat painful. There were two pictures of Mark - in particular - where he is looking at the camera (me) with such pain in his eyes. It was quite easy to see that it had been a horrifically painful time for him. The pictures of us in Los Feliz reminded me of eating and drinking and sometimes not leaving the house for days (yoga saved me).
I wasn't sure whether I wanted to erase these pictures. What to do with poignant photos of another time. I know that Mark both edited his first wife out of the super 8 and threw away all photos of her (except for one or two). I'm merely whittling. There was a lot of pain in Los Feliz. They are the most tragic to ponder. Santa Monica was much better. There was a glimmer that things could have worked there, but poof. Have I said this many many times before? Of course I have. It's all very tender and fresh with me. I'm a bit lost and do the "one day at a time" shit ad nauseum.
I wanted to smoke this morning. It took a willpower. I'm getting non-smoking fat. I eat when I'm sad.
Oh, so the strange ipod wearers: It's interesting isn't it to see an old man and an hispanic yard worker wearing ipods. I love ipods. I'm glad they're spreading like wildfire. I wonder if my hearing is going. I do say "what" a lot.
I'll write the end of this in invisible ink.
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