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.
January 8th, 2010 at
Is it OK to take one’s friends on one’s honeymoon? Because Chile or Argentina both sound just so perfect we may HAVE TO come… And malo wants to meet again with the strange girl wearing a sati in the middle of the mountain who, in another life, briefly took him in her arm…
We miss you guys! We request you visit us on your next trip to Europe!
Love,
The 3Ms
January 8th, 2010 at
Oh, hell no I think The Hoff just fist pumped in his video.
January 9th, 2010 at
Okay I am tickled. Understand I am in no way serious in calling myself The Kye. I just HAD to do it. And that is out of that I’m the Kye that mentioned the phenomena of the “Year That Busts Ones Ass”. It was a theory I’d heard from friends who dabbled in astrology and I guess it was as good a way as any to explain to myself why age 26 to 28 handed me my ass repeatedly - and not on anything as glorious as a silver platter. Just “Here. Here’s your ass.”
My friend, I am lit UP with the thrill of being in communication with you.
I think I don’t mind being a little un-done.
I’ll be wandering through your blog. I have missed you more than I knew.
January 13th, 2010 at
Happy to read you again Taz!
There’s a big empty space here in old Europe now that you’re gone (even if the air is definitely more breathable, without Paolo’s farts).
But it’s so nice to see you starting your new life together!
Wish you all the very best, and look forward to see you again soon, in Europe, US or wherever!
=)