magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

I didn't go into work today. Didn't set my alarm, and tried to sleep late, but wasn't able. Instead: Coffee at the Archive. Lunch at Life Cafe. Another trip uptown to get the keys to my new place.

While there, a text message from Stef. About some piece of mail that she's gotten, addressed to me. 'Looks like it might be an invitation,' she says. 'Should I open it? Or just put it in the big envelope with the rest?'

'It's probably just cleverly disguised junkmail,' I want to say. 'Feel free to open anything that you think might be important.' But I don't say anything.

Later, in Brooklyn, more text messages. 'Sorry for just jumping into that without even saying hi. Hi.' She's read the last couple entries on my website. She asks me if I want any of my stuff for my new apartment. If I can wait until the new year. 'You know that it takes me longer to process things,' she says. 'The end of December would be a hard time to see you.'

The one year anniversary of when the best year of my life lead right into the worst couple of months? Yeah, that might be tough for me too.

'I'm really glad to hear that you're doing well,' she says.

I'm pretty resilient. I tend to land on my feet. Maybe even exhibit signs of thriving. But my emotional life is still a daily struggle. There's still a huge fucking hole.

Dan came home. Left. Came back. Marie and Rob showed up. There had been loose talk of sushi, but nothing came of it. I decided to skip dinner altogether and headed back into Manhattan.

Bookstore. Movie theatre. Primer. Which was fantastic. And so encouraging to see such an artistically successful tiny-budget film getting played in theatres even in the face of Hollywood's ever expanding excess.