Mad at Miles

Born May 25, 1926

May 25th means a lot to me, my mama, my sister, the handful of people I haven't alienated by staying out of contact much like the April-born father I haven't spoken to in damn near a year's time at his behest, of course. I told myself I'd never do this. I'd never be this reflection of him, the master alienater, but here I am following his tip toes. (He's real cool too; too cool to heal-toe through the world so he walks with his head high and ego higher bouncing through Seattle in self-appointed Kingly fashion.) I can't seem to keep up with myself or anyone else so then I'll stay to myself. How do you reconnect with people's who's phone calls you avoided for no good reason? How do you explain that you really wanted to talk to them but couldn't? I don't think I'm depressed, just moody, just Geminish, occasionaly stifled by insecurity and unable to shake some very bad habits.

I used to say I wanted to live on an tropical Island and transport all my globe trotting friends and loved ones there. Nobody stays in one place anymore, me especially. People come into my life in particular places but once I'm out, I'm out, and I can't say why. Not that I don't know but I'm not interested in thinking hard right now. I always say I'm not a phone person and I'm not I prefer face to face contact, preferrably one on one. I don't like the distraction and competitive energy of large groups...sometimes.

This blog isn't good for me. I indulge in myself and my voice in NYU's sterile computer lab, or at a minimized screen at my part time job (I'm supposed to be working), never at my internship (I really am working) but sometimes via my slow ass dial-up connection at home. It's completely solitary and not so much so, kind of like me: a half brewed bitch, you know, not quite ready, a mean-mugging May baby, deceptively kind and generous, trying to grow up.


Born May 25, 1975