Trying to dig myself out

No one forces me to write. I'm suppose to like it, right? But I have had so much shit going on over the past couple weeks, I can't manage to write anything: personal, academic, theraputic, witty, sexy, nothing. I can't manage to.

Here's what I know:

There is a man living in his truck outside my house. He's been there since I got out of the hospital. He puts a propane tank on the ground as he shuts the door.

I can't live in Minnesota during the winters anymore. I thought I could, but I can't. I talked with my former sexy roommate tonight and he told me that tomorrow is going to be 82 degrees in Riverside. Not that I have any desire to live in Riverside again, but it was 7 degrees here today. That's unacceptable. Therefore, it's my goal to be... bicoastal by 2009. Minneapolis is one of the coolest, artsy, supportive, beautiful, musical, fantastic cities in the world... now where can I roam during the hibernation period?

Barak needs to quit smoking if he's running for president. I love it. More power to him. It's tough as hell.

I'm not sure what to puree. I can now, but I'm sticking with soup.

I think it's time to teach again. It's been long enough. If any of you hear about openings let me know. I hope to be in a classroom again by the fall.

My heart has never been better. I'm not talking about silly romantic bullshit heart, I'm talking heart, and it is pounding. And it's beautiful.