Dark side of the moon.

When was I truly happy? Berkeley. Walton. Moving into the Florence apartments and getting coffee at the public library on the weekends with fourtet on my iPod crossing the old folks home with the crematorium across the streets. Madness and creativity class. The year I did lots if mushrooms. Ok, so they were all mixed, joy and sorrow rolled into one. When was I both happy and clear-headed and at peace? There’s always been something and the peace doesn’t last long. But walks at night with a friend, knowing conversations, moon, tenderness, passion. The first months with Adam. A taste of something that could be long-lasting with someone else, some other time and place. I’m going to Eugene to see him tomorrow. We are “friends” now. Sunday we’re going to a ballet of Dark Side Of the Moon at the Hult Center….I’m feeling like the dark side of the moon, cratered and mysterious to myself. He once hurt me so hard I thought I was going to die. And now it’s my only consolation to spend some time with him. Where does that put me?

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