when i returned from afar to the swamp of my mountains

europe was amazing. i'm still struck by the dichotomy of my emotions. basically the whole time i was missing things. not home, per se. i missed anna and anna and james dearly (and was jealous of their canadian expedition together...though at the same time i was wandering the streets of italy and amsterdam). i missed michelle a lot, of course. i also found myself missing katie, my little rising chanteuse, and hoping that she had written some new songs for us to record.

strangely, i also found myself missing - no, not missing, but rather softening on - aleena. not as in 'man i really want to see her.' i think i've just finally filed her away as just another girl, replacing the strong negative feelings i've had for her in the last few months (which began with me finally cutting her entirely out of my life). i just feel bad for her. i hope she's doing alright and that she likes the new rufus wainwright cd, because i do. i should talk to her, at least before going away to college. i miss her mother, too. that's where i feel bad, because her mother did nothing at all; she was like a second mother to me, but i wasn't able to put up with aleena under any circumstances. so that's that, anyway.

but now that i am back home, where i've been dying to return for weeks, i feel bored and out of place. i want to be back in a hotel room in europe, waking up at 7 am and eating breakfast in the hotel with everybody (or by myself, as i rose early), sneezing and being commended with a delightful "fuck you" from erin, and doing guided sight seeing in city centers and having a ridiculous amount of freetime in unfamiliar european cities; i want to be able to walk two minutes to the metro or the underground and hope on a train and go to the Champs Elysees or Oxford Street or anywhere anywhere anywhere that is beautiful and that is europe.

so what has changed? there's a small voice inside my head that knows that missing someone dearly only sets you up for a let down, for you know that those feelings of want are only a one way street, usually. but that's okay, it's preparation. i'm leaving for good in two months. i have to shed it all now and leave my old lost poetic skin behind.

i'm really looking forward to seeing anna and james, of course. and then harley, when she returns for a week for the decemberists concert that i am overly excited about. you know, i missed those three a lot, and i missed them all in different ways. and i saw a bus that said "@na castro" on the side of it and it just made my day (i think that was somewhere in italy at an autogrill...)

so do i bother climbing the infinite mountains of those who remain attached to my shedding skin, or do i dare wade into the deep but small lake of this new, raw flesh? is there ever a forward to turning back? can i walk towards the sun while facing the moon? (or is it the other way around?)

sure, i could go into detail about the europe trip, who did what, who i became fond of, this and that, here and there (seeing the white stripes in concert in europe! being mildly disgusted with amsterdam; rediscovering paris and realizing it's one of the most wonderful cities in the world - definitely a future home; relaxing at the foot of the swiss alps where all is green and cowbells...), but really, really, why? it is all within me, anyway, and would be meaningless to anyone else in the sense that it is meaningful to me.

either way, i am back now, and ready to let the next two months wash over me like the saves trying desperately the cleanse the sand of all its woes and pull me, gently, into the wild ocean.