Kafka

It’s 9:30 on a Wednesday night and I just woke up from a nap. It’s gonna be a long night. I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was watching an old Simpsons re-run, the next minute I was waking up and something terrible was on UPN. This isn’t good. I don’t want to be up all night. Especially when I need to work in the morning.

But that’s not why I wanted to write. I wanted to write to just let some things go. To get some things out in the open and off my chest. Which I guess lends itself to digressions. (Is it a digression when you’re not really digressing from anything?)


I stumbled upon the website of an old friend of mine, a woman who I met when we were both living in the Tenderloin, who has since relocated to New York. We’ve lost touch and reconnected a few times over the years &#151 a sort of on-again-off-again friendship. Last time I talked with her (a girlfriend or two ago) she seemed depressed and distraught and overwhelmed and I had a hard time understanding why. She’d just gotten into Columbia. While, on the one hand, knowing her background, knowing the truth of the world and the difficulty people face when they try to blend into the Ivy League culture when they were never raised in that culture, I understand why she was having a difficult time. I don’t really recall why we lost touch. But reading her blog it seems that she’s graduated. And thinking of going to law school (I think). And generally having a blast in NYC. She’s living her life and in love with it. It makes me smile to see that she’s doing well. And I’m thinking of sending her an email. But I’m nervous and I don’t know why. I’m nervous about reconnecting with old friends. And I don’t know why.

A part of me is happy to see her so happy. Another part of me is sort of depressed by it, truth be told. I woke up Monday feeling depressed in general and I haven’t been able to shake it. I don’t really have any reason to feel depressed, but when has that ever stopped me? So I guess I’m in that space of looking for excuses for my depression. Justifications.

Y’know. I hate that word. I hate that word “depression.” It sounds so fucking serious. And it sounds so fucking cliche. I watched Sideways last night and the lead character, of course, is in therapy and on anti-depressants. It’s become a literary device. Remember when the only really neurotic person in the movies was Woody Allen? Those were the days. He had a certain kind of neurosis you could get behind. A sort of tortured, intellectual, New York Jewish insanity that was inspired by actual problems that could nevertheless be laughed at. Not a cliche, literary device.

Speaking of Woody Allen, I watched Annie Hall a month or so ago for the first time in years. I think that’s the reason my love life is so screwed up. I keep dating Annie Hall’s. I keep having relationships with women who are incredibly smart, witty and attractive, and I invariably fuck it up with my own neuroses.

Maybe sex with me really is a Kafka-esque experience. But in a good way.

At any rate, I had lunch today with my most recent ex-girlfriend. It was good. She’s moving on. I’m moving on. We talked about the people we’ve moved on to. The guy she’s seeing is apparently an idiot and when I asked why, I said, “What? He’s just not me is he?” She laughed and said, “Well, yes.” So that was a good little ego booster. I ought to do that more often.

So that’s all I’ve got to say at the moment. It’s been a long week and it’s only half-way over. But when it is over, I’ll have a long weekend of school work, and then it’ll all start again. And no doubt I’ll still be falling asleep to old Simpsons re-runs and worrying about whatever real or imagined neuroses I may or may not be plagued with.

Thank God I’m not wasting any money on Zanex.