Powell
July 21, 2008 / 4:21 p.m.
I have never been this upset over something in my entire life. Absolutely a constant feeling of depression that has just slowly rubbed me the whole day. I can handle a break-up or realizing that things aren't right to keep going on. But to have it happen that way, all the details, the mind imagining details , the protracted nature of it... everything. I just don't have the words... Absolutely do not have the words.
I absolutely knew when I woke up this morning that I wasn't going to go anywhere the hole day and instead just practice being a recluse.
I slept like shit last night. The covers on the couch where stretched and falling off. I would have given anything to have been working all day today
I did jog around the golf course for around half an hour, and made a trip to Taco Bell for the Lazy Man's lunch.. but other than that, all I can do is sit in front of the computer while the TV buzzes above it creating white noise.
Nothing has happened here all day, in this complex, either. It's just Sandy Boulevard 50 yards away, behind the bushes and across the parking lot of the third-rate steakhouse. Sandy Blvd, the traffic on it, going up and down the hill between 49th and 57th.
The Teriyaki place across Sandy started up its cooking at around 11, and the fumes of the cooking meat that get spat out its exhaust pipe on top of its roof have slowly been around.
I've never really had much sympathy for the weekday where things are quiet. It's almost like it wants you to feel sorry for it: Do something with me, make something exciting happen, Be happy for all the pre-occupied and ossified people, Do Something with me now that you're with me, lonely, today. Etc.
The sun is out... It feels hot, buy I'm not sure.
I'm moving next weekend, most likely. August 1st at the latest. To a house out on 61st and Powell, about. Such a depressing, droll area. Nothing within walking distance... just unused parking strips, sound-walls, overgrown bushes and trash littered ivy flanking sidewalks.
I'd have to catch the bus to go anywhere, or Ride my bike across Powell and then down into SE or wherever I wanted to go.
It's hard to get over the feeling of dread at being isolated like that, though. Here it's the same way... only chinese restaurants, Jack in the Boxes and Safeways... But at least there's a feeling of a pulse or rhythm of some sorts to feel. Powell and 61st only seems to be a caricature of a neighborhood... feeling made fun of for being fake, soulless, and out of order... and taking it out on its residents by boring them and overcoming them with subconscious loneliness.
That's not to say my two roommates aren't people that I like... two lesbians... very nice and courteous. Down-to-earth and thoughtful, it seems. I'm sure I'll probably be itching to get out of there within three months and will have some half-assed notion of giving them my notice... and then chickening out... and then sticking it out too long.
Or maybe I'll really like it, find a groove in life, and finally pull my fucking life together from all the miserable shreds i have it at... and won't be thinking about it.