packing of course for the road trip (see below), and was rereading Kerouac’s great The Subterraneans, but was too disheartened to realise that i was reading a tale far too close (down to the everything! my heart…) to my own recent loving misadventure and so sought for my giant Thoreau anthology but couldn’t find it, damn it, so now i’m looking for a more suitable story to read or reread, with heavy heart of course and also in a way morbidly cheerful. almost picked up Dostoesvky’s Crime and Punishment, also Steppenwolf (Hesse), but maybe i’ll settle on Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Joyce’s Ulysses is far too much for a road trip of course, but i’m way behind on that; and The Drifters by Michener is what i’m currently loving, but in hardback form and rather ragpapered… it won’t do this time. ah, me.

also deleted my livejournal today as i want to have nothing more to do with it, especially with the specific personified reason i first started on the accursed thing. not to be bitter you understand, but i just feel like i’m done with that whole (hole) scene, dig? and essentially just don’t need the trouble and sadness that it brings me each day. lighten the load, i always say, see you travel lean and you get to certain places faster that way.

man, i need to cop some more of this heart-splitting romance stuff! heavy love, can you dig it? there are certain nightmares i’ve just always had a certain macabre fondness for, ah!