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03.21.01 9:55 p.m.

"...The Truth is holy, and even as I know how wrong he was... I tremble - For I confess something perversely pure calls to me from his memory - not purely good, but himself purely, for he allowed himself to be wholly known and for that I think I will love him more that all my sensible clients."


 -Arthur Miller 



I desire very greatly to no longer want Kate. I can't and won't say I don't love her or that I do not want to love her. I wish, however, that I didn't ache daily to be with her. I am not being poetic, I really do not want to want to be with her, but I feel impotent against the overwhelming force of my desire for her.
I have very little hope with her, she is very explicit that I am not what she wants, though she loves me.
This is despair. This swansong has gone on far too long.
I nearly got in an accident on my way to classes because I am brooding over her and this situation. I want to therefore live and be free. How much freer I felt before all of this. I bear a shackle now for her.
Years ago, when I went to my senior prom with Kate, I loved her so much that I cried over the beauty of her hair. I cannot escape how superb a person she was and is. She may choose to remember only the pain, but I cannot forget the glowing white beauty that was our relationship. Could be our relationship... NO! Hope hurts far too much to allow. I wonder if she is even thinking of me so far away in Texas.

I have been working much more in an effort to repay my car debt and still have some money to live on when I am living on campus (hopefully) next year. It is beginning to get to me, I feel highly inactive spending my days stamping books and reading MBTV recaps.

All week so far, I have looked forward to the end of classes. Not in a post-spring break way. As you know, I was drowning in boredom over break. Nor is it anticipation of the return of Kate, though I do not deny that I await her return so that I may have my heart broken by her yet again. Or kiss her and put the cardio-crushing off for another five minutes.
Every day, it feels that I am waking on Friday, merely a Friday named Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday that required me to attend classes. Nor is it the classes themselves, though I have had the distinct feeling I owed some very important work in nearly every class. Actually, I did owe an outline for a term paper I am supposed to be researching and writing for my Developmental Psychology class, but I wrote a two page, double spaced paper from nothingness twenty minutes before class when my teacher, Dave, informed me that it was due today. It wasn't perfect, but I was impressed with my "creativity" and typing.
Only Time will tell why I feel this uneasiness.

I met someone new today. I am trying to be more social, with the direction of Fate, as I am a gregarious animal. Sans others, I tend to fall asleep... or lament being lonely. Anyway, we will address her as, oh let's say, Dulcinea.
I had seen her and complimented her on her clothing several times in the past, though not really to engage her in conversation. I am just a great proponent of unexpected compliments from pretty strangers, especially if I am one of said strangers.
Several days ago, I complimented some lass because she made a lovely picture against the backdrop of the spring sky streaming through the large cafe window. Of course, I am half-blind so she was fairly blurry. She was an aesthetically pleasing blob of fuzzy color, however. The Fuzzy Pleasing Blob seemed pleasantly surprised, though I am sure she'd derive less pleasure from being addressed as a Fuzzy Blob.
Back to Dulcinea... actually, this story now seems significantly less interesting now. I can't imagine Dulcinea will play any more important role in my life, our interaction was brief and slightly suspect on her behalf. I may greet her in the halls henceforth but she is little different for our time together, as am I. Every interaction does not change the world.

I wish Kate had my angel pendant, as then I would feel a real lack rather than a psychoemotional one. I could pretend I missed it and not her. No, I could just feel that something else was missing from my life.


reading: Another Roadside Attraction Tom Robbins
listening: Jewel Kitcher, pre-Spirit
wanting: no more jellyfish
interesting thought: There are fewer knights and dragons today. They didn't kill one another; they merely adopted the same bodies.

Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. Double Dragon publishes four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, and Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings. He likes when you comment.



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