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Wishing her the very best

Breakfast was a big bowl of graham cracker slumgullion, as I read a letter from Sarah-Katherine. It had been well-shredded by Lugosi the dog, but was still legible.

"In case you haven't noticed," she writes, "I'm a headstrong, willful girl. My friends and family all eventually discover that attempting to change my mind is futile. And I want to get off the West Coast."

It's her answer to my letter a week ago, when I'd dumbly asked her to reconsider moving to New York. Dadgummit, I knew this was coming, and now it's here. She's moving to New York without me.

♦ ♦ ♦  

Took a long walk and thought things over, and it's my own fault, of course. New York is her destination, always has been, and she's been square about it all the way.

She's leaving, and I'm invited to follow, and maybe I will but I don't see how, and it won't be soon, and more thoughts, and more. And as usual when I think about things, there was no epiphany, no eureka moment, no answer to what I was wondering.

I understand her wanting to leave, absolutely. When I wanted out of Seattle, I left, came to San Francisco, and nobody could've talked me out of it short of handcuffs. So I have nothing but respect for Sarah-Katherine leaving, and knowing where she's going.

When I left, though, I'd spent a couple of years saving up a fat nest egg. There's no nest egg these days, and to be honest, no great desire to leave San Francisco.

♦ ♦ ♦  

When I got home from the walk, I wrote a reply to Sarah-Katherine's letter, wishing her the very best of luck in NYC.

And dinner was another big bowl of graham cracker slumgullion, and that was the 13,700-somethingth day of my pathetic life.

From Pathetic Life #20
Wednesday, January 17, 1996

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

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