I’m driving back from a weekend in Savannah. I needed to get away from Atlanta and relax. It’s such a beautiful city. It looks like a larger and cleaner New Orleans. It really is charming. I have a replay of Stern on the radio, of course, and he has Natalie Maines as a guest. She was promoting her new album, which is a lot of covers. Howard asked what she was going to play and she said a cover of Jeff Buckley’s “Lover, you should have come over.”  I had tried listening to it a couple times, but it hurt too much, but here it was in my face again, not to be denied. I broke. 

This seems to resemble death more than a break-up.  The person isn’t there anymore, but the love still is. 

You would like it here today. It’s Easter and half the city is empty. I bought a bike yesterday, so I’m riding around the city and Piedmont Park, exploring. It’s really a well thought-out city; parks, pathways, street art, street musicians, etc. I fear the heat and (worse) the humidity of the summer to come. This assumes I’m still here by then. The way this project is going for me, I could be fired any day. It’s really is a tough one, and I can’t seem to catch a break at all. It’s a little slice of misery. I’m trying to ride it away. I’m going to hit a yoga class later too to try to purge it all. I haven’t been sleeping well at all as well. It’s burning me out a bit. Although I could possibly attribute last night’s sleeplessness to eating an entire box of cookies at midnight. I was washed, brushed, mouthguard in, and somehow instead of pouring a glass of water I grabbed a box of cookies and almond milk and went to town.  Clearly I left my self control back in LA.  

But I’ve had lots of sleepless time to think, and I think I may have finally pinpointed why Costa Rica affected me in the way it did. I had seen your interactions with your previous men, and told myself that could never be me. I’m sorry but I always thought of those guys as suckers. We were too in love, and you loved me too much to be that way with me. But you did though, and I couldn’t believe it.  When the thought occurred to me that I may ultimately be treated that way, and I could wind up another sucker, like watching the dogs while you were away with another guy, I couldn’t even entertain the notion. Maybe it would have been different for us.  Maybe I might have been different, but at that time it seemed like I had fooled myself, and I wasn’t.  I was just like them. I had waited all that time, pushed and pursued, and wanted someone so badly that everyday without you it hurt, and then I might be just one of them?  I can’t. I know that I can be proud to a fault at times, but whether it was overreacting or the right amount, I could never and would never be them, and so I wasn’t.  That also boggles my mind because I know you don’t want that kind of guy either, but yet you somehow settle for them. I don’t understand it and hope that you don’t wind up with one. I think you would end up unhappy, like your sister, and you’re so much better than that.  I believe in your profound heart, your ability to be sweet and warm and loving, and I believe those could triumph for you. 
Anyway, I’ve said too much for one post. I’m off to finish my ride and head back towards the flat for a wee. 

Finally in a flat and settled. I wish I never accepted this job and just held out a little longer for something I wanted, but I needed the bread. It happens.  I can divest myself and work my ass off though, which I’m doing, but I fear that on this one it won’t be enough. It’s an impossible situation; too little money, too little time, too much script and too high of an expectation. I’m in real trouble. Obviously I’m not sleeping well because of this and I’m wearing thin.   There’s no way to undo this and no way not to succeede.  I must because that’s what I do; I persevere. 

Why does every damn heartbreaking song still make me think of you?  I hate myself.

It always feels like the farther I go, the harder the pull backwards. 

I’m in Vegas. I threw a surprise party for my brother’s birthday.  It was a lot of fun. I stressed way too much about it, but now that it’s over I can focus on just work. We went out afterwards to some punk rock bar, where they made me drink a shot of “ass juice” from a mini toilet.  Seemed appropriate at the time. I got a bit smashed and am feeling it today. Tonight he’s playing with the Spazmatics, which is a really fun 80’s gig. Then back to LA tomorrow. I’ve got two or three days to get my house, clothes, kit, etc, packed up and ready to go to another show. This time in Atlanta. At least it’s closer to Nola. I will do some weekend trips for sure. I was just in Atlanta this past week for a night. One friggin night. Flew there Wednesday, back to LA Thursday, then drove here (Vegas) with my mom and cousin Sam on Friday.  Go go go. I’m so shot. If I was smart (and we both know I’m not), I would just stay in tonight, watch a movie, take a pill and get some rest.  I have to drive us all home tomorrow too. Anyway, you crossed my mind, so wanted to update you, though I don’t know if you even read this anymore. Imtgis could just by mental and emotional masturbation. For now I’ll just imagine that, if only for curiosity reasons, you still look at this now and again.  I hope you’re doing well.