("PB" has left the building, and his answering service couldn't find anything but the following rerun (from November of 2006) to post to this blog. Do not attempt to adjust your set. You are our prisoner. You are getting sleepy.....)
I'm tired. Sad and tired.
I guess we may not have a second child. I may have just made that decision. Anette thinks so. She's at home bummed out and I'm at Blue Orange drowning my sorrows by sampling fifteen albums of new wave music....lost in my disease.
I just can't commit to another kid right now. I'm so far away from myself, from doing what I want to do with my life again, from writing well or making photos or doing journalism or all that other stuff that made me. This is the first time I've written a journal entry in half a year. Getting back to that stuff is the second most important thing in the world to me right now. Maybe it's ironic that the first most important thing is my family. But I can still dream (can't I?) that somehow I may get back to myself, that I can someway have a family, this family, and still do work that fulfills me.
I still dream that dream.