Saturday, February 11, 2012

How you follow

Sometimes I walk outside, and I feel like I never left San Francisco. It doesn't feel bad or good, just familiar but more frantic, like my life has sped up and the things that give me energy -- press for the book, interviews -- still leave me in that fallen-down aftermath. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised at all the good press, but it doesn't stop me from feeling caved-in every day and so much to do, to keep it all going, to keep myself going.

Click file And then the events -- beautiful while they're happening, but then there's the aftermath -- no, not fallen-down, more broken-down. The exhaustion becomes that pain in my sinuses, between my shoulder blades, the way I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about an interview, one that just happened or one that might happen and I dread leaving, having to travel more, before rest I hope rest yes rest is what I'm after, even if this satisfaction comes from non-rest I mean I'm trying to rest but it doesn't quite work. Now I need to go back to the laundromat, to get my laundry out of the dryer -- it didn't seem as chemically horrifying as before -- it's the same laundromat, since I'm staying on the same block. The other night I walked right past this building, and I was almost at my old building before I remembered. The people who were in front and then behind me thought I was following them, or wait though they were behind me and then in front of me, right? That's how you follow.

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