I was so nervous about my radio appearance—will post photo of the notes I kept scrawling—but it went well and was even fun, and then I got invited to a book festival which I hope works out cause I’d get to visit a friend I miss a lot. And then, I don’t know, a whole mess of anger and angst and sadness and nostalgia I’ve been holding on to, even scraps of it, felt like it was gone. Or like it belonged to someone else. Maybe I needed to realize that that ongoing crazy connection I felt (and, yes, sometimes still feel) is because beneath all the bullshit, there are things I have in common with this person that actually transcend the personal. Or I have an active imagination, but either way, even if the “moment” is one of blogging synchronicity, it made me feel something good. Not happy or some crazy over the top emotion, just this kindof calm that I was hoping would show up someday. Much as part of me would like to pretend so many things I’ve done never happened, I can’t. They’re all there, somewhere inside, and it’s up to me to juggle and navigate and sometimes tame and placate, or, conversely, indulge them.