Shoot Out The Lights: 1  

Somewhere back there, the world kept turning while I remained the same. Somewhere back there, my girlfriend told me that it was over, and every nightmare I'd had the night before had told me the same thing. Somewhere back there, my grandfather was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer; a man who has been like a rock to me, that Danish blood of history, suddenly struck low by nothing but chance. Somewhere back there my grandmother on the other side of the family had her third heart attack, this last one too much, and died, a strange, empty space left behind that nobody quite knows how to fill. Somewhere back there I not only failed to get a job, I failed to look, I failed to do anything, sleepwalking for months as the world spun, spun, spun. Somewhere back there, my dog back home, with a broken leg, shaved from mange, also got cancer in her bladder; not much time left. Not much time left. Somewhere back there I found out that I'm losing my apaprtment on October 1st, back out on the street, weighed down by the detritus of my life. Somewhere back there, I turned twenty-five years old, spent the day writing letters to people who have helped me, directly or indirectly, get through it all. Somewhere back there, I realized that change has to be met with change; that my natural urge to entropy and passivity is dragging me down like a lead weight around my neck; that I am still a scared thirteen-year-old weeping in front of a television. Somehwere back there, I started therapy. I'm in Seattle for a little while, observing the nature of the beast from the outside, but soon I will throw myself back into it's mouth. Somewhere back there, everything changed.

More tomorrow.