boom boom boom let's go back to my room so we can do it all night and I can make you feel right...

I can't believe I'm leaving chicago. The attempted city. I can't remember any of my reasons tonight. I am in the sanctuary of this apartment after a wonderful night. My almost pink living room with the lovely built in book shelves. I'll leave the view of the neighbors living room and the smell of a musty couch. I'll leave the perfect prailene of my room with a lighted closet, in which I slept off many a panic attack. The view of the cemetary at night from the kitchen. Yes, there are things I will miss about the city. And yes, I'm scared to go. Did I give this city a chance? And myself?

I can't believe it is the 4th of July already. Somewhere between the January snowstorms and yesterday I lost myself, somebody precariously stuck me between commercials on the WB and there I have been hiding. And I found myself beneath a stick of juicy fruit.

My cats!! My darlings. I've never been so attatched to something--I think. And yet, maybe it's not my time to attach myself and is there ever a good time?

Packing. Tomorrow. Hard.

We have to know nothing, fall into the next phase without strings in order to find, to learn what it is that is next. The plan for next is alway a memory-- never an actuality.

Boom Boom Boom

all the pretty lights

go

and the band plays their requiem

Does it feel good

to be a spectacle

to be so short lived?