Phone call

Jun 22, 98 | 12:30 am

It's 1:47 am. I'm writing this naked, by candlelight, having packed the last of my lamps two hours ago. I have to be up in about five hours. My apartment is in shambles. The movers will be here in seven hours.

It occurs to me that the next time I write from this very bed that I will be 1200 miles from New York City. I'm too dumb to be afraid. I never really take the time to think things through. This moving business is one of those times that I am pathetically grateful for my utter lack of foresight.

I miss Arthur. I spoke to him today, to say good-bye, and we both dragged out the conversation, neither one willing to relinquish the last line that connected us. We talked for over an hour. About everything that had happened since our split. About nothing at all.

I am too charged up to sleep.