It’s been a whole year and I still have the last two cupcakes in the freezer. With much much joy and ceremony, I’m going to devour them tomorrow. I miss you today. I would have had my way with you 57 times had I seen you in New Orleans. 

I made it home. The dog did surprisingly well. Other than a road trip as a vacation, I’m not doing that for work again. It’s just too much. Other than Stern or news, I mostly listened to the Springsteen channel on SiriusXM. I wish I had been a bigger fan earlier in life. He’s really such an incredible songwriter and he imbues his songs with such emotion. Every song was the story of us or just you. I must have listened to five different versions of Thunder Road, but the best was the live piano acoustic version. It’s so easy to overlook the poetry when there’s a big sound behind it.  That was a lot of road with a lot of time to think, remember, ponder, laugh, cry, and try to figure things out.  Why has our timing always been so terrible?  Timing, distance… and yet…

…retarded

I just passed our house, or what would have been our house. The new owner did nothing to it. What a shame. It made me ask the question… do you think we’re even?

I’m in Gulf Shores, Alabama. The first stop on my way back to LA. It’s a lovely little witesand, southern haven. I’m sure it gets crazy red-necky on the weekends, so I’m glad I’m shoving off on Friday. Next stop Nola.  It was Juma’s first time at the beach or seeing the ocean. The sea scaredhim half to death. I lifted him up and held him and I waded in the warm water, knee deep. Maybe he’ll be better today. 

So enough about you… what about me and what I did?  How am I responsible for this too?  I’m sure there must be reasons and blame on my side, but a one-way blog isn’t an ideal forum for feedback.  I may never be able to make amens in person, but without knowing my part in it, I’ll never be able to in cyberspace either. Whatever it is, whatever it was, I’m sorry. 

Thanks for the text. It scratched the scab, but the familiar pain is somehow comforting.  You know how many times I have replayed every day, every event, every argument or issue from Costa Rica?  Too many.  What the fuck happened?  You liked, even loved me me because I push back, and as you said “gave you the proverbial backhand” when needed. Every action and attitude was for it not to work. Fear, really?  After all that?  It still doesn’t make sense. You know where we’d be right now?  I mean besides in some lame argument…

The show, I mean. Apparently my poor relationship with the showrunner (head writer) is irreconcilable, so I’m leaving the show.  I don’t like to leave anything early, but there really is only one resolution, so I’m off. First stop Nola. I have to take a few days here to get my affairs in order, ship my clothes and kit, etc. it’ll be nice to be home after being gone for three months. It seems so much longer. 
PS, was out at a restaurant, sitting at the bar, talking to a girl, and Born To Run came on and pretty much brought the night to an end.  I don’t think I liked her anyway, so thank you.