five years ago i lived in a big victorian house in west oakland with my best friends

and i worked at a little donut shop, and drove around in an old police car, and went down to LA every month, and dropped acid and walked around at night, and gave my phone number to friendly strangers, and dated this cool girl who ended up disappearing. . . .

mccune and i hung out every single day, and we had our friends here, back before they all left, and on and on. . . .

well! it’s all gone. my life is still the same except i am more alone with it all. everyone has gone away, and it’s just me doing these things now. it had to end, and it did . . . but i still miss that place in time and space, and often i dream about being there again. that was the best era of my whole life. everything since then has been borrowed time i never asked for in the first place

oh well

what else can you do except get further away from it. if there’s an alternative i’m sure i don’t know what it is.