Where Does it Go?

Man, I woke up this morning finally feeling defeated.

For the third morning in a row, the house was really cold and I had to face the fact that I needed to close some of my windows.

It just doesn’t seem fair. It’s still only August and it feels like the whole Universe is trying to tell me that the summer is over. How did it slip through my fingers like that? It makes me so incredibly sad.

And I texted Sandra, finally, because I needed to face the fact that I have to talk on the phone with her as soon as she’s back in New York and discuss these many revisions I’m doing to Tell My Bones and just see what she has to say about it, and I am well aware that this could drastically change the scope of my entire trip to NYC in a few weeks. (Plus, I have to get a new car and I should probably do that before I go to NYC. Just all this major stress stuff.)

The director should be emailing me this morning about my most recent pages, and hopefully have some suggestions about how I can best proceed out of the morass I’m currently in with the script.  So I know that will help combat my feelings of defeat. Plus, the guy I was giving piano lessons to — he actually put his house up for sale many weeks ago, and he has finally moved to a new house and is unpacking so, soon, the piano lessons will resume and that will make me feel happy.

However, these things won’t make the summer last longer.

During breakfast, I kept thinking about this time last year, and how incredible it was. I suddenly began writing Blessed By Light, a novel unlike anything I’d ever written and my life began to get magical. And also during the last 2 weeks of August last year, my house was filled with all those amazing furnace repair guys. They were updating all the ducts and upgrading my furnace and they were just such amazingly cool, good-looking Hillbilly-Deluxe hippie guys — I loved having them here, even though I was trying to write a new novel the whole time.

But it had felt like fucking summer still, you know? Last year, the summer lasted all summer.

I just can’t get used to how quickly time flies, the older I get. It’s the only thing about getting older that I can’t handle so well.

After breakfast, I did my meditation but it didn’t help. My thoughts wound up drifting right back to the weather. You know, I look at the weather forecast for the upcoming week and it will be, like, the most perfect weather imaginable: 80s Fahrenheit in the daytime and down to the upper 50s at night. Perfect weather. My absolute favorite kind of weather. Why am I so depressed about it? It’s all about my windows: I just hate having to close my windows because that just makes me feel like it’s Fall. It’s hard to believe that closing some of my windows could make me feel this depressed.

I finally gave up trying to meditate because it clearly wasn’t happening today. I laid in bed for awhile, just thinking about feeling so defeated.  Why does my brain suddenly take these hard detours down paths that aren’t good for me to think about? It doesn’t help anything.

And then I suddenly remembered that tomorrow is the anniversary of Greg’s death. It could be that that’s what is underlying all this. I remembered what the weather was like that week he died. So hot, so sunny. Back then, no one went back to school until early September, so it was still very much “summer.”  I remembered going to the corn festival the night after Greg died — a sort of County Fair — and how intensely difficult that was for me to process; all that frivolity and yet Greg was dead. I remembered going to the funeral home, too, and not expecting it to be an open casket since he had been killed in an accident. But the damage had been done to the back of his head, so his parents had an open casket viewing. And when I walked into that funeral home and unexpectedly saw him there, I wanted to die myself and the hardest part was knowing that I wouldn’t. And the funeral itself was on the most beautiful sunny, hot summer day.

Jesus Christ. 45 years ago. I don’t understand where that time went. As I was lying in bed, I was thinking about some of my friends from that era, and most of the girls I knew back then are all grandmothers now. And I still feel 12. I don’t understand that. I don’t know why I can’t grow up, like everybody else did. It made me feel really, really sad this morning. I got older, but I didn’t grow up.

Anyway. Hopefully, as the day goes on, I will feel better about everything. Nick Cave is in Helsinki tonight so there should be stuff on Instagram. I always love that. A couple of people have posted from there already. Currently, some one has posted that he/she is absolutely thrilled about tonight. I don’t know the gender of Finnish names, but whoever it is, this person is extremely happy and is on a train heading there as I type!

So, well, life goes on.

Have a good Monday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

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