still writing letters

R,

I like picturing you there, with all the ice and the space. I imagine it's easier to think where you are, so I am envious. But of course, content, vicariously through you.
It's cold enough here to wear shotty long underwear under jeans, but not warm enough to fall through the only, and accidental ice rink of the commons.

My brain is really full and when I close my eyes I see scrambles and can't organize them just yet. I am switch-hitting really full days with really unproductive but satisfying nights. I pendulum between feeling like such an accomplished human being, and feeling the way old gray sweat pants look. You know what I mean.

I'm learning songs. I know 6 or 7 chords now. I sing really loud when Julia's not around or when I'm drunk, and it's really fun.
I'm writing. I'm turning all the shitty dreams I have about Alex into a modern Homeric Odyssey. I don't really know why yet, just for the sake of it? Simply for the novelty of their similarities?
Because it feels like purging.
My class read it and hated it, and they made fun of my Whoopi goldberg references, and asked what they meant. I've decided Sister Acts one and two combined are my gospel, and if they don't understand why, then there's no explaining it. But they were right about my lack of direction, so I hated them for being right.

I'm doing that thing again where I desire space. Everything feels too compact and cluttered. I really want a big open room where I can work and stop that thing where you shake your foot or leg at all times. I feel like the big white room with the perfect desk is waiting for me somewhere, I just haven't found it yet.

I can't stop reading. Marilyn French, Allain de Botton, Anais Nin, more Allain de Botton, Books about books and books about writing and moods and sickness and suicide and philosophy.
But I've been reading in low light for years. I'm getting my eyes checked on Friday, and feel like a bulimic heading to the dentist. Knowing he's about to find the evidence of abuse as a ring around my teeth.
The optomestrist in my head tells me I don't have 20/20 vision anymore and that means I've lost the only thing I have that is perfect.

This sound dreary, but to be completely honest, I think glasses are the best, so bring it on.
And also, I sound dreary, but I'm not lying, today, when I say,
I feel good.

love you