I've been working on the web pages lately, sorta re-vamping the whole poetry site
. I suppose my idleness has gotten the better of me--I just have to do something
One thing I've tried to do is write--the unfortunate thing about writing is you're either on or off; you're either in the groove or not. This entry, for example, seems forced, off-kilter.
I've gone just about nowhere with yesterday's passage (which, incidentally, I wrote on Thursday). Ms. Kjos suggested the possibility that I write vignettes, moments. I had considered that for a while, but I have a burning need to finish . . . something
. . . a story
or something at least greater than that small collection of words.
Climbing is going well--I'm starting to really feel comfortable around everyone there. Unfortunately, I think I'm overdoing it. I probably have tendonitis already. My fingers are aching like never before. I don't suppose computer professional/rock climber is a great combination for the hands . . .
What's the meanest you can be to the one you claim to love, and still smile to your new-found friends?
She talked to me today. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Stacey told me this weekend, "She really treats you like shit
," which, I suppose is an accurate assesment of the situation. Of course, Stacey has more than a one-sided view of the whole mess.
She tells me, however, that she treats me no different from everyone else in her life. So I guess the proper way of putting would be, "She really treats everyone like shit
Or maybe I'm just bitter.
I guess I always knew that I would lose her, and lose her badly . . . but what we had was so very special. I didn't think that things would go to that fucking asshole, and I would be left holding the shit end of the stick.
I still love her.
And that's probably the saddest part of this whole thing.