since feeling is first

There is some stress; work is ending in two weeks and I haven't nearly enough time to do everything I need to. There are three summary judgment motions, a two-bedroom apartment to clear, three months of unstructured time (and health insurancelessness) to plan for, and my parents are in town and would like me to accompany them to floor 103 of the Sears Tower and other such Chicago landmarks. There is some triumph; my roommate and I performed many times in the past week, quite well, and it feels good to find a music-making partner whom I respect so much and with whom I feel so comfortable and compatible. This I will miss above all when I leave Chicago. Finally, there is happiness; I am in love with somebody who is in love with me. We spent a week in Chicago being a pair of fools. Although my happiness often comes with neurotic fear about losing the source of my happiness, right now the giddiness is overwhelming the anxiety. How did that happen? Who knows? What will happen? Only God knows which way the wind will blow. Does it matter? I had a stunning week, y'all.

Anyway, I think I will cool it on Bananarchist for a bit. After I get myself through the next few weeks, I'll have some time to write about the entertaining preoccupations of summertime in Chicago: the improv class, the week of music performance, the friends who have come through, stories about Brahms, the elements of a cause of action for a breach of the implied covenant of good faith and fair dealing in Colorado. Until then, I leave you with a something my dad said to me, in English, totally out of the blue, as we walked along Lake Michigan on a 98 degree Saturday: "Believe it or not, [Bananarchist], when I was younger, before I met your mother, I thought that when a man married a woman, if it was a time of famine, he could cut off her feet and eat them, and they would grow back. So I married your mother because I knew I would never be hungry."