_the world’s end_

August 6, 2014

today i had to drive over to oakland and up into an area so pleasant that i didn’t know it existed in order to put my rent check in my landlords’ mailbox and then turn around and drive home again.  basically i spent four bucks in bridge fare and a gallon of gas or so, not to mention a good chunk of my equanimity just to assure that i can carry on my hand-to-mouth existence in san francisco for at least another month.

because this process was apparently not angsty enough for me, i also ambushed myself with a song that i like a lot, but that made me cry on the freeway.  “call me crazy,” by storm large…it reminds me of maureen so much and of myself and of the two of us and how only one of us is alive.  this crazy doesn’t always help me see death as funny, let me tell you, but i am glad i’m alive.

been feeling fairly crap about things, myself, my situation, stuff that doesn’t generally bear thinking about, but that i can’t get out of my mind lately.  petty rejections and failures that shouldn’t register, but can’t be shaken off, confusion and longing for the ease of things in the past.  not cool and pretty much the antithesis of how i want to be living my life.

_the world’s end_ was kind of a mess, but kind of brilliant, too–a kingdom for the unreliable narrator, i guess, if you are a person who can’t just have fun and enjoy a movie.  (i’m that kind of person.) 

earlier today i read this essay about _the big chill_ written by lena dunham–i don’t really know anything about her, but this essay really resonated with me on the ever-fascinating subject of nostalgia, coming of age and friendships.  it made me think of the friendships i made in my 20s, the friends i had as a teen, the community we used to share and how it’s all exploded out into these little fragments now.  i am no more a hub in a wheel now than gary king in _the world’s end_, not that i was every “the king”, but there was a time when i was at least in the middle of my own circle and not just on the edges.

it’s all very melancholy in my head right now, but to every ebb there is a flow and i’m still alive.  my connections are more diffuse now, but they exist.  i need to figure out how to live out in the world and not up in my head or lost in my past, let alone the past of fictional characters.