yesterday our internet was down so i jumped in the car and just drove and drove. bought a skirt, saw a movie, ate a hamburger.

the thrill of a new place, a new theatre, of leaving. the hours in the car, belting out songs or being completely still, everything on cruise control and no other cars around. just being present. thinking about everything. processing time, like letting the cool developer wash over you while you wait until an image begins to appear. shake shake shake.

i love people with a lot of myself. but sometimes keeping in touch gets harder and harder and i've come to realize my part in that. and i miss having those easy flowing conversations with people i loved on the phone or on aim (remember aim, when that was a thing. we move so fast.) a few days ago i found this long, private entry i'd written in another journal. and it had this beautiful long aim conversation, over the course of several hours, with compliments and closure and discussion of good books and poetry and the point of view of a man that i enjoyed spending time with and that i respect and want good things for. telling each other stories that we'd forgotten, ones that we remembered.

(for future needing closure on this issue, chat is from january 27, 07. [skip90])

and it's so nice, in a brief moment of missing the person i was and missing the person he was and missing us together living in the same place and wanting to catch up and remember it all, that i can read that conversation and see his actual words and remember, yes. that's right. this is not a case of misplaced memories. it happened and we happened and it was real. and i don't have to have it again, it doesn't have to happen now when we're not available. god, the power of the written word. feels like a hug. like a perfect, steaming cup of coffee that i don't even want to drink, just want to put my hands around the edge and let it warm me up.



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