Sheila called me this morning (the middle of the night for her) asking me if I'd wire her some money for a flight home. She's maxed out her credit card and apparently the honeymoon is over.

She's also wondering if I have my own place yet (I don't). She doesn't want to go back to the Singing Company but, surprise, can't afford anyplace else.

I miss you. It makes me crazy that you can drive me insane from across so many miles, but that I have to be right in your space in order to make you crazy like this. Sometimes I feel sure that I can bide my time as long as I need to and other times I feel as frenzied as I did that night all those years ago when you let me take you out to the desert ( Read more... )

I got a postcard from Sheila today.

It says: "Italy is beautiful. I miss you. - Sheila."

My sister is so stupid.

There was a rumor floating around that he was going to let you come back home. School's out and I wonder why he's holding you there. A long weekend with him by your side every moment is hardly satisfactory.

Is this a good way to reach you, or do you prefer something you can hold in your hands ( Read more... )

I guess people who go through trauma that is beyond the pale are entitled to moments of bliss. Those who go through regular run-of-the-mill trauma are entitled to no such thing. Just like those who go through regular run-of-the-mill happiness aren’t due for pain. But if your happiness is above and beyond what’s expected, you’d better set yourself ( Read more... )

Protecting yourself, I see.

Myspace was stupid anyway.