Did I mention? I’m in a great mood! As a matter of fact, I’m… HOOKED ON A FEELING!
Is it real, you wonder? Why, yes. It’s The Hasselhoff. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid. And be sure to attend Oktoberfest in Germany next year (he’s always performing there) if you wanna hear the follow-up.
Tiffany, this one goes out to you and Andrew…
It has been hard to start writing again. To revisit these pages so full of the sordid anguish and heartache of the past year and a half. It’s not something I ever want to see again, or think about. My friend Kye once told me that people have these “star-crossed” years in their lives where everything falls apart. Like an acid coccoon that eats away at your self so that you must emerge a different creature. I’ve clung to that bit of hope for a long time, but I’ve been hesitant to call the year “over”. Yesterday I talked to Kye for the first time in over five yeras. Is it a sign? It feels so good to have real, true friends in my life again. So let me declare now the Shitty Year of All Fucking Shit, as it will hereafter be referred to, as OVER. Or rather, that I am over it. Whichever.
The important thing is, I am here and Pnut is here. My mom, dad, my brother and his wife are all doing well.
Jersey?? You ask? Happily, one of the most under-rated places I have ever been. Most people think of the Interstate from here to NY. Truly, I am in agreement. It is disgusting. Dirty, full of gutted dead deer and other indistinguishable animal (I hope) remains, traffic backed up for miles and miles, overrun by shopping plazas and strip malls, and thoroughly depressing in that solely Amerikana fashion. But take an exit, my friend, and you are in small lakeside villages, rolling hills, farmlands and provincial areas where the “townies” hang out in their local pubs, and everybody will tell you exactly what they’re thinking without hesitation.
We didn’t get the house in Dover-Rico, but we are almost finished with the purchase of a beautiful log cabin in the borough of Hopatcong. It’s one of those cabins that used to be a vacation home, built in the early 1900’s. Knotty pine walls and a loft space with a bathroom that forces your knees into your ears as you seat yourself upon the throne. But Pnut and I are used to living small, and we like a space with little privacy so that when our friends are in our home, we can enjoy them as much as possible. The previous owner fed deer from the deck in back, so there are four-legged visitors a few times per week. The largest lake in NJ is just a few houses away. And we’re close to the Gunks… even closer than we were to Fontainebleau from Brussels!
As for school… I am applying. I am gathering immunization records, SAT and ACT scores from almost a score years ago, transcripts and other odds and ends of paperwork that trail you for the whole of your life though you can never locate them without serious excavation work. And I hope to start for this spring semester, though it seems unlikely given the timing. Pnut and I are already planning our visit back to Europe, and our belated honeymoon to either Argentina or Chile later this year.
So it is with some trepidation, but not much, that we start this new life in America. Once again with just a few suitcases of posessions, but books in transit. With each other. And like most people moving to this country - with many hopes and dreams for the coming years.
Spider sang this song (E ti Vengo a Cercare) for us at our wedding in VDM. It is one of my favorites. The Battiato version is the original, but this CSI version that holds sticky in my throat and breast.
