i think i'm having a blog identity crisis. i'd call a specialist for help but my phone mysteriously stopped working. i'd turn to my constant companion for advice but tragedy whirlwinded him away to his family late last night.

my life is neither boring nor depressing. somehow i just can't seem to write about it. maybe cause the issues occupying thoughtspace are at once weighty and banal (death, for example. and the future. ha! what's to say?

except, i miss my dog. i'm bracing myself for going home and for the first time in 12 years not having her smiling goofily and wagging her tail, shedding, looking vacant, or plopping melodramatically down on the carpet. my family's had to cope with her sudden cancer and sudden death up close. i've had the luxury of condoling via telephone and letting my last days in new york city distract me.
right there, that's guilt, see? a domestic species: familial, it says. don't tap on the glass, you'll wake it up. just look.)

i'm still doing stuff, running around research, reading screenplays at work. but it's all winding down.