i spent the weekend in santa cruz, with richard. if only that line were enough to bring back all that i thought about, that needed writing down, that drifted away. and this only addresses one weekend of drift. but there have been months of drifting. i started drifting may first. april was stunning brilliant simplicity. then, unmoored.
i went up to the top of the parking structure, where, at the end of my time there, right before graduating, i had written a line from djuna barnes' nightwood. i don't remember what i wrote exactly, but later i drew a livejournal name from that line. i don't remember what it meant to me, but i remember it was windy up there. i remember which corner it was in, and that i felt very alive, daring, free. like an open window.
the line was written small, and i expected it could still be there, overlooked by janitors. when i saw the wall where it had been, a plain concrete wall, plastered with squares and rectangles of grey paint, i knew they had been thorough. when i had written it, there had not been others, scrawling more loudly.