Here I am. There it is. How about that.

Beautiful weather outside. I'm inside, freezing in the dark. Heh. Dark: No light, withering life. I opened the blinds a bit so that I can see out into the backyard where the woodshed stands open, the handle of a lawnmower poking out. The trees are moving a lot; it must be really windy. The coolness of this air conditioned house and the visual cue of breeziness makes it seem like it's only in the 70's out there, but I know better.

I haven't been out all day. In this place where I always dream of being, where I promise I would do, do, and just do, I've hunkered down inside like any random day in Korea. There were things to be done: Money to be distributed and tallied; phone calls waited for and made; email to compose; journal work and journal reading too. Maybe I needed to do something that feels routine. I have plans to go out to the grocery store later. I thought too I might go workout. I don't know.

I woke up depressed this morning. I've been depressed, but today it has manifested itself physically and I feel weak. Monday morning means that people available for play, available to keep my mind distracted from the pressing matters at hand, are out making their livings. I'm just living: not making one, but hanging on to it. No distractions on this sunny day.

Felt a bit worse after talking to Jason on the phone. Yes, his place is free for me to use, but I must deal with his roommate and whatever riffraff drifts up to the strata above J&M cafe. Must also deal with the absence of common living amenities like cookware. He says he has glasses for drinking. But what can be expected for free? That's the whole deal right? Always a price to pay. The location is perfect however.

Last night my G-ma called here looking for me. I hadn't told her I was still here. She had sent an email to Korea expecting me to answer, but instead got a message from Dave who informed her that I was still in her own backyard. She was upset. I had to deal with it. Of course I was angry: He could've waited to break the news. My staying is some kind of crisis for her it seems. Crisis for her. Wait, I'm the one in crisis... right? I guess that's not important. Man, I feel alone. Can't wait for summer camp to start.

Today I broke the news to Dave's family. They were on vacation, returning today. I guess I've been secretly waiting for them to return because I felt I could rest against their supportive cushion a bit. I'm needing that. I'm not getting it anywhere but here from my cousins, really. It's like dying, I guess: People don't know what to say, don't know to what lengths they should take care of me. But then, I haven't been explicit about the details. Why should I? That's not my burden. I should not have to divulge, to endure the pain of telling, to receive comfort. Mostly, it's like the dying thing: People don't know what to do.

No one is taking care of Dave. That's usually what I do.

So I told Dave's folks. They are supportive but their primary loyalty and love is with their son. I was told that members of their family would probably be angry with me. Great. I'm trying to salvage my life, my relationship, and people are angry with me. I know it's the truth, that people get angry when they get hurt. Dave is angry. I'm angry at all of them for being angry. That's OK. I know that things like this take one day at a time and I have no problem occupying a space and watching the world live around me. I have done it before, no doubt will do it again. Therefore, no need to worry about what other people are going through; I just have to make sure I'm doing OK.

And somehow it just all seems so big. And it is big, the scope of all the things I'm dealing with and all the people involved. But it's not that huge, really. Not huge in a completely disastrous kind of way, like death. All things seem less tragic than someone dying, at least according to my own measure. So I'm wondering why all of a sudden I feel like there's this enormous pressure to merge back into the mainstream and forsake myself to maintain the calm. Is the pressure imagined? To some degree, perhaps, but not entirely.

To the left is a picture of Dave and me on Orcas Island. It was our first night up there - July 15th - and the weather was dark and brooding. Battleship grey water, silvery grey mist obscuring the skies and earth. The darkest green of thick douglas fir offering the only contrast. Home. We were waiting to eat pizza at one of the few restaurants on the island. I like this picture of us. We look happy. We were. It's one of those disposable cameras Dave likes to use. He's holding it with his arm outstretched in front of us.

We stayed at a B&B called the Kangaroo House. It had a hot tub, which was its best feature I think. Otherwise, the man of the couple who ran the place seemed a reluctant B&B host, acting overfriendly in that sickening false way like he really just wanted to throw up rather than talk to us.