*** This is nothing but rambling ***
One of my oldest friends had her first child this morning. That child crawled out of the womb quicker than a spelunker with sudden onset claustrophobia.
Meanwhile, I spent the day looking at dismal apartments in skanky districts, all my meager funds will permit. Even when looking WITH a friend, for a joint housing maneuver.
Exhibit A: Sullen youth diced on hoods of cars that haven't moved since 1988.
Exhibit B: Every window lurks behind steel latticework. So do doors. So do yards.
Exhibit C: There's no such thing as street sweeping in these 'hoods. I doubt the police come either. Unless it's at least a double homicide.
Later, in a moment of randomness, I pinged a former coworker, one of two with whom I've maintained friendship after jumping ship for law school. Midnight was too late for him to be really awake. And this would be true if he weren't in FRANCE. He was just starting his day.
Unfortunately, he got stuck with the job of telling me that my only other friend had died recently of a heart attack.
And I don't know how I feel about that. Disquieted? yes. sad? no. angry? no. Loss? no.
Guilt for not being angry, sad or otherwise upset? I can manage that one.
See also guilt for being crappy at staying in touch.
I slunk out of the house and headed uphill. Did you know daffodils still bloom in the middle of the night? Birch trees and cyclamen are shiny white under a nearly full moon. You can hear trains from miles away. Their whistles sound like mournful laments for those too stupid to stay off the tracks. Death sings out to you, the only advance warning you'll ever get. Trains are more fair to people than windshields are to bugs.
I should go to bed, but it seems like it might be a pointless exercise. Dare I drug myself into submission?
Tune in tomorrow... or Friday, same thing.