April 23, 2007

• feh

  I’m still not too happy about Will.  I did e-mail him today at work — he learned how to check work e-mail at home when he was out, plus he apparently had been in the office two days last week — and said I liked the band and the show, but whether he was at work or at home, I had no response from him.  And yes, I was rather surprised to learn that he had been at work two days last week and hadn’t called me, but neither had he called me when he got home from the hospital.  He just called me to cancel his whore the morning after he was injured.  We have a book coming out soon about dealing with “the narcissist in your life,” so maybe I’ll get a clue as to how to rid myself of Will.

  I’m still unhappy about the stuff we lost from storage.  So much of it seems like evidence of what I’ve done and where I’ve been, and now that evidence doesn’t exist.  Poems I wrote and some that were published, mementos of jobs I’ve worked (for some reason, I was thinking about the issue of my old radio station’s program guide that had a little profile of me, from 1977 or such), everything concerning the magazine I edited and published and the magazines  wrote for, all my my vinyl, my mother’s wedding dress, forty years of journals, letters I received from friends over a 30 year span…it makes me ill.  I really thought I had kept the journals here but I guess not.  School books.  College texts, not to mention all of the extremely expensive books I bought on mythology and symbolism and hero myths.  The copy of I Robot that Isaac Asimov signed for me at the first-ever Star Trek convention.  Summer camp literary magazines that I edited and wrote for.  I feel like I’ve lost the proof of my past, or the past itself.

  • 7:31 pm
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