and your glance nails in my eyes like a sword

and now it's almost sixty instead of almost seventy-five, and raining slightly with that sort of annoying wind--my glasses get rained on and my shoes squeak when i walk from the parking lot to the car, from the car to the door, from the door to the elevator. working on something for six and a half hours will do that, i guess, and make me inconceivably tired and with a rapidly deteriorating confidence and hope. not just about this, the deterioration, but about everything: the last ones, the months before these last weeks, and here i realize that it's the end of my year, really--not only the start but the end (another one! they're all around). someday, someday soon, my brain will adjust to the calendar rather than the school days, and i hope i notice, but for now it stays with the academics. another year gone and then that three month void of summer. what happens then is always so self-contained and a little empty, and i concentrate mostly on filling it in after finding the edges of its space: here's a class for a couple weeks, and some work, and some semblance of a schedule instead of that waking up without wanting to and going to sleep unsatisfied, the day wasted and the night gone.

the loss of feeling connected--to whatever, even if it's a community composed of people and things i'd rather avoid and wished weren't part of my life--is so great, especially the first weeks. and the tiredness of things past, and this desire to just go forward forward forward instead of this constant pop-up of things that were before--of people and places that don't know me any longer--it's all there in full force with no excuses, and demands decisions and boldness rather than deference and the passive whatever.

The Passive Whatever: Decisionmaking and Destiny, The Worn Places on the Soul III.

don't ever lose that, says the devastator, and i said don't worry my friend, wisecracking is in the marrow of my bones, whatever that does for me. i've changed my shirt now, to the american quality team with the red sleeves. i think i have to get out of here, because i'm too tired to sit and think and write, rewrite, revise (how can you be so ungrateful? is what i think, but not to myself, it just reminds me). i said something ugly just to be nasty today, on the phone, and i regret it and take it back, a thousand times. i want to see something good, a good piece of film or a stunning work of staggering genius that has absolutely nothing to do with dave (though kudos to him) or any of what goes with him. i am tired of a community in itself divided, and tired of pretending that it's not, and just tired.

probably too tired to post.