I slept in until 3 pm today, waking straight up after a dream that ended up involving pictures, my father's old camaro, and the Moleskine notebook that I left with Allie in Iowa inadvertently. I miss that notebook; it had a lot of writing I need to pick up again. I remember laying on the futon in her living room, scribbling in it by the light of my laptop, trying not to wonder what was going to happen to me when I returned to Seattle. I have to learn to trust these impulses, as they usually try to prevent me from doing things that will make me hate my life.
Once, almost three years ago, I was this much of a wreck. Danielle and I had just gone through the Thing, and I was spending the summer in Oregon like I always do. A woman named Laura agreed to give me a crash course in Capoeira (I've written about her before, I know) and, in doing so, taught me how to function again. I managed to lose track of her around 11-9-2001, and haven't heard from her since. She's alive and all (this was confirmed by Greg), but aside from that, I can't tell you anything. I wish I knew where she was so she could teach me how to live again, even by accident.
I have to stop waiting. I have to stop wanting. I have to stop doing a lot of things.
I have to stop being awake.
25.09.2003-Epilogue.
30.08.2003-Exeunt, the Moor.
28.08.2003-why?
27.08.2003-Last night, and august in general.