I can't wait until I'm out of San Francisco and can stop thinking and writing about suicide. Once I'm out of San Francisco, that's it, point of no return, out of sight, out of mind. Even though the basic contours of how I would do it was formulated in Ohio, and even though the East Coast is actually a bit more amenable to that plan, it somehow got tied exclusively to San Francisco. Leave here and the bond feels broken and hanging onto it would just be stupid.

I didn't sleep in my bed last night, and I think I'm not going to sleep in my bed anymore until I leave San Francisco. Get used to the disjuncture from that comfort. Sleep on the couch, sleep on the papasan, sleep on the floor like in the movie "Trust". Sleep in the truck, sleep at rest stops, sleep in motels, sleep on friends' floors, sleep back in my old room at the parents' house. Oh, how is this going to be accomplished?

Yesterday, I woke up from a dream that had me floating in waves of possible pasts and wanting a future. Life and living, the very fabric of it, feels so good. Love is pretty wonderful stuff, too, if you've had a dose of it. The feel of love is also a fabric of reality. Or so it was in the dream.

Breathing in, breathing out, air is fabric, muscles filling lung space with air. One of the side-effects of being into astronomy and cosmology is you do think about this planet as a small place in the vastness of the universe, and how this spheroid of rock is surrounded by this dubious atmosphere that allows our type of life to live; allows us to breathe in this fabric called air because it's how we live.

My parents called this morning. I told them I'd be heading back to New Jersey soon with indefinite plans for the future. I even told them I was thinking of going to Taiwan. I don't know when I'll mention anything about a monastery.

Back when I hated my parents, when I easily put the primacy of friends over family, they said, "Your family will always be here for you, do you think your friends will do that?" I said, "definitely", and I didn't care if they were there for me, I was rejecting them. All of those friends are gone, and here I am returning to New Jersey after leaving for San Francisco to get as far away from them as possible.

Luckily, I don't believe in senseless pride, or else this would be a huge blow to it. Devoid of any community, I fall back on family. I couldn't do it if I hadn't achieved losing a part of my self.

current soundtrack: Tom Waits - "Franks Wild Years"