Turn and Face the Strange, or, Pleased to Meat Me.

agh. Augh.

I got off the phone with AMF, who is currently in D.C., and was ready to go to bed. Now, I'm having trouble staying tired. Dammit. I had to go to a work dinner at a steakhouse, and now I'm filled with beef and coffee. This state is not conducive to falling asleep, despite the fact that every part of my body, mind, and soul is aware that I have to be back at a meeting at 7:30 tomorrow morning.

So, it goes.

I got back to my place, and it was dark. Truman was pressed against my bedroom window waiting for me, and I felt kind of lousy for having to leave him alone in the dark all evening. Coming back to this place at all lately, no matter the time of day, feels like arriving at a dark place. Empty, devoid of life. Terry seems to have moved out of the apartment in front of me. We had a pretty severe falling out sometime ago and went from being good friends to barely tolerant of the other's sight (to all interested parties- I was Right, and he was Wrong!). Now, I'm the last of the original four tenants of the building. That's an odd feeling. I was thinking about it a lot today. I knew all of them to say hello or share a beer. In the summer, there were parties in the yard and a whole circle of familiar faces. Now, we have a freakish kid up stairs who, well, really just ain't right, a guy in the front upstairs apartment who I never see, and an empty apartment in front of me. And, two really good friends lived next door. They've since moved, and haven't kept in any degree of contact. It happens gradually, and before you know it, everything's different. You're not quite the frog being slowly boiled in a sauce pan-- you notice the changes-- but you're still not ready for the boiling point.

Again- so it goes.

This town- I love it to death. Maybe I love it with such force because I'm afraid it just might vanish on me. It's the closest place I have to a hometown. But, it keeps changing. And, it should. That's the natural course of things. There's always the nagging suspicion, however, that sooner or later, you're going to find that it's all just completely foreign. There you are, in the middle of a booming town in a dark little place.

I'm not maudlin, just thoughtful.



(Keeping the lights on.)