Portland

It's November.

Portland, again. I am back in the land of dreary rain-winters, lights on buildings, silver sidewalks, trees & restlessness...

I don't want to be here. I don't want to not be here. I just...didn't want to be here so soon.

I want to be a hermit.

I actually find I don't really want much of anyone, even my friends, to know I'm here. I would rather go unnoticed-- come here to do my work, write alone in coffee shops, try somehow to continue working & raising money, perform in my show: focus on my work. And go an unnoticed shadow in this city of shades & rain. (Tango, of course, is the problem. How do I Tango incognito?)

...Perhaps I'll don a mustache.

It isn't a harsh thing. I love my friends. But all I want for a time is myself. I don't mind feeling loneliness in my own good company. I sometimes like it.

But my work. My art. Figuring this whole horrible thing out for school -- or giving up on it. I want to do it all alone.

I miss my bed.

I hope my roommates are not angry with me that I left so fast without a goodbye. I don't always think before I act, I fear. And it all happened so fast; all at once. I'm dancing; I'm injured; I'm dancing; I'm not sleeping; there's a ride & there may not be another -- so I pack, I clean, I'm running out of hours, I say yes & I go.

...it isn't til later that I realize this may not have been the wisest course of action.

It's an odd thing to know that you are deathly, deeply, sadly afraid of living your life out unnoticed & unremembered; unremarkable & at the exact same time to go through phases of longing for just that. Hmh.   *(I'm smiling).*

I'm glad to see my sister. I'm beginning to love my family more than just because they are my family. I really LOVE my sister. Miss my mother & father, even if I do not love always being around them...


Portland.
I don't know what to do.

It is also an odd thing to know that action is required; that your life is slipping by while you sit in coffee shops & just be sitting here, full of a softer kind of anxiety; worry, but just somehow fully happy & content to sit & spend hours...watching them slip by while you sit...and stare....and just look out windows.

I have so many things I want to do.

I don't want to go through the task of explaining, when my friends run into me here, why I am back again. I want to move forward. I am also happy with the ways in which I move forward; slowly advancing circles; curlicue paths; snaking spirals or interweaving knots of forward movement coupled with dramatic lines of straightness or dots of stillness to build momentum.

'People' do not understand. And I do not want to explain anymore.

I am happy in my life & I know where I am heading & that I am heading there; making progress. Isn't that enough?  (It should be. It is to me & my life is the one I am living).

Hello again, Portland. I'm glad to be working here, though i do not miss you. Anymore.

Hmh. How marvel-ous. Indeed, I marvel at it. How strange...

I've missed my sister. I hope my roommates aren't angry & I didn't f*ck that up again.

...I like being quiet. In the shadows. Without a name to me.
I have plans.

I'm back.