Apolo­gies for the long sab­bat­i­cal. No lame excus­es; I’ll just tell you where I’m at and you can do the rest.

I’ve moved away from Asheville. That’s the biggest news, I imag­ine. I left a lot behind, and I’m real­iz­ing that I should­n’t (and don’t) miss much of it. To pre­serve who I am, I’ve had to leave a lot of folks behind I feel, and I’ve cer­tain­ly lost many more friends then I have gained. There has been a lot of qui­et pain had to/decided to deal with, and in many ways that’s all I can see in front of me; more life of just scrap­ing by, and cop­ing with old scars and maybe being too afraid to get new ones. School seems like a dis­tant prospect, but I’m work­ing slow­ly (the new SAT will make my Octo­ber 8 prob­a­bly very depress­ing.) Apply­ing to col­lege is a lot of work, and I feel it is such a long shot for me that I’m almost doing it a lit­tle to keep my mind busy and a lit­tle just to say I tried. I feel myself becom­ing bit­ter again, and that usu­al­ly does not for­bode good things either. There’s no future with­out win­ning lot­tery num­bers or an edu­ca­tion in this world, and I do not come from old mon­ey (or any mon­ey.) With­out those things, even being a white male in the most suc­cess­ful cap­i­tal­ist nation ever to exist can­not save me from overt and endur­ing medi­oc­rity. Youth is the only anti­dote for entropy, and I feel that even that is slip­ping from my grasp…


How­ev­er, some light heart­ed moments still occur. For instance, in my new place there is an old organ, one that Shane’s fam­i­ly bought from a funer­al home. It’s a Kim­ball “Swinger 300,” with the name­plate Scotch taped to the front. The thing is so damned corny, the sound it pro­duces is so un-fune­re­al, but I love it. I’ve been learn­ing how to play some things on it, and I’m going to try and learn a cou­ple of lounge tunes which Dan will be able to sing at par­ties. I know he has some ter­ri­ble suits, and I think this has some seri­ous poten­tial. What will we be called, though? Wit fails me; sug­ges­tions are wel­come.


Tonight was odd in one oth­er respect; I talked pol­i­tics with some­one who claims his name is Howard Hugh­es III, and that he is the son of THE Howard Hugh­es (who was actu­al­ly Howard Hugh­es, Jr.) He quot­ed (cor­rect­ly!) Hes­iod’s Theogony, Herodotus’ His­to­ry of the Per­sian Wars, and Aris­totle’s Eco­nom­i­cus. He rides a bicy­cle, but only under cloud cov­er. He works at the Roy­al­ty Foods con­ve­nience store. I hope I run into him again.


A par­ty is in the works, which many of you know about. It’s very pre­lim­i­nary right now, I’m not even sure of the date yet, but I’ve been try­ing to build buzz. I’m hop­ing it will be an all-week­end kind of thing, there should be a keg, etc… lots of out­door activ­i­ties, maybe camp­ing or paint­ball or what­ev­er. Cer­tain­ly a bon­fire. If you read this, you’re prob­a­bly invit­ed, so please offer any sug­ges­tions. Forty-five acres can be a lot of fun…

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