When It Goes Away.

The day I left Tennessee, Knoxville proved to be a place that should immediately be nuked and started from scratch. I haven't heard too many good things from there lately, and my optimism that the people I love who still live there can pull out of the mire they've created is starting to wane, and quickly.

I spent the evening yesterday sharing a beer with a raging ketamine addict. Before you judge the wisdom of such an action, as I have already judged it thoroughly myself, it was pretty funny. Kind of like a Dostoevsky novel.

Other things, other things. I had my first ever trip to a laundromat. It was not very exciting. The leafy-green spendin money dwindles and dwindles. I may get a job at Williams-Sonoma, which will complete my whiteness. I no longer have a garden. Jupiter is not happy here, and the jury's still out with me. Although I will say that the loneliness I feel - the loneliness that I have - is forcing me into a more than a few intensely introspective moments, in which I have to wonder: what am I doing here? Why am I talking to this ketamine addict? And why, in the wake of my departure, and in all my teary goodbyes and my wonderful friends whom I miss deeply, do I feel rendered so unlovable myself?

Tomatoes aren't even in up here yet. Some guy down the street has a bucket of romas growing, and they're not even pink. Hard little green knots still. It is a culture shock.

My birthday is Wednesday.

Apartmented.

Pearl Street at Dusk in the Snow,
originally uploaded by found_drama.

I am the proud tenant of 9 Greene, one of the more bizarre apartments I have ever seen. There's a grett big kitchen, tiny l'il ol' living room...but the party...the real party...is in the loft.

Oh, you'll just have to see it.

And Jupiter will definitely have to start doing drills to be able to hoof it up them stairs. Or if not, maybe we can rig up some sort of dumbwaiter-type thing.

Now all this is starting to come together.

So if you're perusing blogs in the blog-o-sphere, and you happen upon this blog, consider it a message in a bottle! The Rat Bat is coming to Vermont, and would love love LOVE to meet you!