Tempus Edax Rerum
April 1, again
So I got my silly April Fool's entry out of the way; moving on.
I always have to struggle with Sundays. It's foolish, an entirely psychological weight, but I just feel sluggish on Sundays-- it's hard to build up enthusiasm for anything. I managed to get some stuff done, today. I submitted a story. I sent Marissa some long-overdue crits. I wrote an outline for a new fantasy/erotica story. I paid rent. I bought a couple of books (used, and I only spent $4 total, so this isn't a total overthrow of my attempt at frugality)-- Lansdale's By Bizarre Hands and Jim Kelly's Wildlife, both of which I've wanted to read for a while. Logos has good books, but their system of categorization is bizarre. They have a literary, an F/SF, a mystery, and a horror section (though the horror section is only for hardcover and oversized books; trade paperback horror is bundled in with literary or mystery). I found three Lansdale books today, two of which I already have-- The Drive-In was in the F/SF section, By Bizarre Hands was in literary, and Savage Season was in mystery. Nothing of his in horror, but that just means they didn't have any hardcovers of his books.
Bleah. Stupid freaking arbitrary categorizations.
Then again, I guess Lansdale prides himself on being uncategorizable. That doesn't explain Peter Straub being in three different sections, though, or William Spencer, or Kim Newman...
Scott bought me the new Old 97's CD, Satellite Rides. I'm giving it a listen right now. They are ever-less-country, but it's still good.
This evening we went to play basketball (or, more truthfully, to just shoot baskets-- we didn't really play). It was fun, but not exactly a workout. I didn't even break much of a sweat. And of course afterward we went for beer, thus replacing any meager calories we might have burned.
I was walking around Santa Cruz tonight, looking at the place with fresh eyes (and regular readers of this journal know I'm pretty consciously appreciative of the town anyway). It's a great place, the best place I've ever lived (not to belittle Boone, but... yeah, it's better). And I might be leaving, moving away, in as little as a month. A month. Or I might stay here for the summer, try to find a short-term job... but even if I do that, I'm gone by August or September.
It's going to be hard, leaving here. I'm going toward something, toward a life with Meg in a new, exciting place... but I'm giving up so much, too. Living with Scott. Hanging out with Lynne. Seeing Karen and Pär and Jeremiah. Timprov and Marissa. New friends like Heather, who I've hardly gotten to know at all! I haven't even visited Jenn in L.A. yet! I've recently been invited to join a new writer's group, too. I'm going to their next meeting, because I don't know for sure where I'll be this summer, and I might be able to take part for a few months... but it won't ever be my group, I won't be a real part of it, I won't have time.
I can still keep in touch. There are Cons, there are visits, there's always e-mail and journals and that sense of community... but the face-to-face, the lunches, the coffee, the folics...
Gah. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all maudlin. I am excited about the future, about living in New York with Meg-- I just don't want to have to give anything up! I want to have it all! All all all! Why will the universe not accommodate me?
Some day somebody's gonna ask you
a question that you should say yes to
once in your life.
-The Old 97's