Run On

Things I've done since the end of the worst relationship ever - for me, for anyone I know, for the entire planet:
1) Bought a membership at 24 Hour Fitness. Expensive. More than I could afford even if I had a job with a salary. I ease my conscience by going 5 or 6 times a week. I lift until the muscles in my left arm shake, like the shivery tremors that cascaded down the arms of the old priest who would substitute teach at my high school, a serious looking man, perpetually embarrassed by his age. I run in front of the TV set that plays CNN. I watch Kanye West's mom die.
2) Bought a Netflix membership. Watched French New Wave. Watched the two Terrence Malick movies I hadn't seen yet - "Badlands" and "Days of Heaven," both about romance - human love, and Malick's passionate zeal for the weird beautiful living world. Watched "Vertigo."
3) Bought an eighth. Spent Thanksgiving weekend in a haze of glitter weed. Discovered that I could write while stoned.
4) Started a novel. Wrote almost 200 pages. Can't figure out what to do next. Have barely touched it in two days.
5) Started a beard, concurrent to the novel. November is National Novel Writing Month. November is No Shave November. I haven't cut my hair or shaved my face in weeks.
6) Gained a few pounds. At one point last Winter or Spring - in the bad time, the weird depressive times - I was at 159. Not even Manorexic. Skinful. Now, zipped up to a healthy 175. Eating lots of carrots and apples.
7) Stayed in on two consecutive Saturdays. Watched movies. Wrote my novel. Stared out my window at San Francisco, pondering the weekend from the outside, wondering if I would ever feel more a part of the human race, if anyone did.
8) Met a random girl on a random night in SF. Turned out poorly for several reasons.
9) Took part in a Stanford study on back pain. Popping pills thrice a day. Between the back pain and the mental pain, I feel like a real adult.
10) Pined after the cute Asian girl law student who drinks coffee and studies at the cafe just down the street from McSweeney's. I exchanged furtive glances with the air around her waiting for her to notice me. Every time I walk into the cafe in the morning, I always say, "If Cute Asian Girl Law Student is in here today, then this time, I'm going to ask her out." And Every Time, she's in there. Awkward, awkward, awkward, ragged claws scurvy maws.
11) Tomorrow I'm going to walk into a barber and ask for a shave and a haircut. I don't want to do this for many reason. I have had the beard (or stubble, or scruff) for as long as I've been writing the novel. Samson and Delilah, you know? And I've just gotten used to it. Do I want to look in the mirror and see myself three years younger? But can I deal with the pretension of having a beard? Why is it that no choice in life is ever remotely clear cut? Why do I feel the presence, a few neutrino pathways to the right, of an alternate universe where everything is different?
12) I finally transferred a bunch of songs from my old computer onto my new one, and when I did that I found a playlist that I constructed as a soundtrack for the movie I was making with my old high school friends the summer of 2005, when I was working in Los Angeles during the week and then driving down to San Diego on weekends to make the movie. And when I drove back and forth I would listen to the soundtrack, and such beautiful images would appear in my mind's eye. When I listened to the theme music from "Last of the Mohicans" I could see the finale of my own movie with crystal clarity, as if touched by some mad demon with an interest in amateur filmmaking.
For the first time in a long time - since Berlin, almost two years ago - I get that feeling with music, again. And that feels good. Content.