Odd Weekend

It was an odd weekend.

I’ve been in a depressive cycle for the past few weeks, and the weekends have been the worst. I’ve felt very lonely. I used to spend my weekends with Valerie, and now that she is gone, I don’t know what to do with myself.

On Saturday, me and Val’s mom cleaned out her apartment.

Most of the things were already packed away, but Val’s mom’s wanted me to have some of her stuff. She is moving, and the books are too much to store or move cross country with. So i took some of her things: a few books that have meaning to me, some dvds, and the rest of her toys. I took a small cabinet too because I need something to rest my CPAP machine on, and it is just too pretty to go into storage. I have a big box of books too, which I am going to offer to friends or to the library. My books are already in storage, I don’t know why I took more, except that I loved the reader.

I am kinda excited about how the complete runs of “Buffy:TVS” and “Angel.” I feel a little guilty for being excited about it though.

I thought that it would be much harder than it was. I thought that I would be overcome with grief. The truth is, I carry my grief around with me and no specific time or place will make it better or worse. It was actually very nice to see Val’s family again, and I had a great time.

Saturday night I went down to Chelsea to see my brother perform at the Metropolitan Room. He’s an aspriring stand up comic, and even though he’s only done a couple of shows, his act is pretty damn good. Writing must be a familial talent.

Speaking of, I did almost no writing last week. Every five chapters or so, I take a week off to edit the previous five chapters. It’s hard to get back into it though. I only wrote about 700 words yesterday, and I am struggling today.


I was just thinking about…

About how Valerie and I would sometimes have “working dates,” where I could sit on her couch, typing away at my latest story or editing my novel. She would sit and work at her desk (she always worked at her desk) with Rancid or The Transplants or any one of the millions of Tim Armstrong projects pumping his frantic mumbling into the airwaves.  Valerie loved to work.  She loved to be doing something, anything.  We both found comfort in our work and in each other.

There is a reason why this is so extraordinary:  I don’t like people.  What I mean is that when there are people around me, it raises my stress levels.  At times it has caused panic attacks, though this is usually associated with a bipolar cycle.  It is very hard for me to be in public.  I often have vomiting fits from being around too many people.  I usually put on a persona–a super-nice, polite guy who isn’t me at all–in order to survive.  Of course, people like the super-nice me better than the real me.

There are only a few people that do not trigger this reaction.  My brother, Scott, is one, I’ve had a lifetime with him.  Some of my friends from college (Like Osvaldo) are others, but it took a long time to feel that way.  The same with my college girlfriend, Jolene.

Valerie was the only one where I felt that way immediately.  She made me feel so comfortable, she became a part of who I am so quickly and completely.  It was like she was always there, and I didn’t know it until I met her.

Damn, I am crying again.

Switching to a more postivie topic, Chapter Four of The Watchmage of Old New York is up and running at Jukepop Serials.  I suggest that you read it, vote for it (you have to register, but that takes half a minute) and share it with your geekier friends.  You can vote once for each chapter, which means that right now each of you can give me 4 votes.  The votes are what keep the serial alive, and if I get enough, I can get bonus money.  To a starving artist like me, that bonus money means that I can buy new pants…I really need new pants.