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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Recent

I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

Archives

see my heart, I decorated it like a graceAs I may have indicated in the last entry, I had a job interview. It's for a social work position in Nunavut. Crazy? Sure. Exciting? Definitely. But it's not as though I've been offered the position yet, so no need to have a party. My plan was to save so much money and move to New York in the Spring/summer, regardless if I had been accepted into the Social Work program.

Buckley and Marble have the worst breath. They have been playing on the edge of the bed while I attempt to update. I'm listening to Ray Lamontagne, and all I have in my mind are images of driving along endless ribbons of highway in the quiet dusk. Racing the sunset. Summers filled with moments of not knowing what to do with myself.

Heh. Seems as though that feeling is not restricted to the summer season only.Ok, I'm in a funk. I don't really know why, but it may be related to my reading material. I'm reading Her Husband. Hughes and Plath: A Marriage. By Dianne Middlebrook. Informative, perhaps a little too analytical but then I suppose that's the main point. It's hard to read because you know they were doomed from the start.

Hrmmm...imagine if you were doomed from the start....

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