Sunday, April 10, 2005 | by nathan

Elysium

I’ve been listening to the latest Mary Chapin Carpenter CD, “Between Here and Gone,” lately. I love Mary Chapin because she clearly worries about the same things I do: time passing, regret, growing old, and that there might not be enough love to go around. I worry about these things too. A lot.

I went to the Mont the other night with a bunch of my favorite people: Bryon, Matthew Perry, Julian, Todd, Gabe, Kevin, and Ryan. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Bryon in months, because he has a boyfriend, and when he gets one of those he tends to disappear. Which is okay, I guess, because there’s nothing I can do about it. But I miss him when he’s gone. We got to talking. I heard these words coming out of my mouth, and I meant them fully:

“I’m happy. For the first time in years. And everything is not okay with me, but I’m happy.”

I told Faith Glavey much the same thing a couple weeks ago when we talked. I can’t imagine how I got to where I am from where I was. I am absolutely astounded by my life.

I was looking on Facebook today and I noticed that Rich changed his picture. I looked at it; he looked the same. It was very weird; it was like he was in the room with me. I remembered what his voice sounded like. But I couldn’t remember how he smelled, which was one of my favorite things about him. I also couldn’t remember the last time we talked before I left New Haven, what we said to each other. I know that we went to sleep - he on the couch, me in the bed - and I got up at 5 AM and got in the car, and that was it.

I was thinking about that experience, because I was telling someone about that relationship the other day. I think that I started to get really healthy last summer. Maybe it was all those weddings, all that downtime. Staying out of the city for so long, being around Dad, taking a lot of walks, those things helped immensely. Getting back into school. Working on my novel (which is almost done - more on that in a few). Working out.

I can’t believe that I’m happy. The first year and a half after I left New Haven, I was the biggest mess you’ve ever seen. In the words of Jerri Blank, “I did things I wouldn’t force on a mule. And that includes things I forced on a mule.”

I used to have these moments, these episodes, where I would literally feel so crazed, so out of it and afraid and sad that I would ask myself, “How is it possible that I will even be alive ten minutes from now?” I would honestly wonder how I would make it through the next moments. It’s not that I was suicidal, because I wasn’t. I was just so overwhelmed with panic and sadness. I felt so on the verge of complete insanity so many times, you have no idea. I remember this one time, when I lived in Norman, I was driving back to work after my lunch break was over, and I felt so incredibly panicked, and sad, and freaked out. No reason, really, except this was the natural state of affairs with the volume turned up. I felt like I might snap and start shooting people. I didn’t know how I would deal when I actually got back to work and had to do something. But I got back, and started rearranging all the socks, and “Bohemian Rhapsody” came on the radio, and the pressure valve got released just enough for me to make it.

Things like this used to happen all the time, and it is a huge miracle that I made it through that time of my life.

Speaking of miracles, there is a thunderstorm moving just north of us right now. The computer lab has these extremely tall windows that show a panoramic view of the South Oval, and the setting sun is lighting up the underside of the clouds. When this happens sometimes the sky turns green, which is actually a bad sign. But it’s also gorgeous to behold. It’s raining like mad now, through the sun. We are in a rainbow.

I am astounded by my life. Things aren’t perfect; money problems are getting worse, and not better. I always worry about when and how the next family breakdown is going to happen. But I have so much hope that I am shocked by it. Things aren’t going to go to hell and stay there. I’m happy. I’d almost forgotten what that was like.

Last night was Kevin James’ going away party. We got a giant suite at the Habana, and lots of alcohol. It was a whole lot of fun, until all of a sudden, it wasn’t, and I no longer felt like socializing. The guy I have a little crush on was there, which was my first official confirmation of his gayness. He’s a student with me. I think he’s pretty marvelous, and we got to talk. Then Gabe needed me to drive him to go get ice, which I did, and when I got back the bloom was off the rose; the guy was gone, as was everyone I’d really wanted to talk to. I left. I like that I no longer feel this pressure to stay and socialize when I don’t want to. Like I said: I may finally be getting healthy.

And I like being single. Imagine! Some stuff still smarts a little: Jonathan, Joel. And I’d love to have a relationship. But I’m okay without one most of the time. I’m okay without money sometimes, because my life has become very low-key. Almost no going out. Most of the time I am very happy to sit around with friends and watch a movie and talk. This is what Laurie, Jaye, and Joel Lara and I did two nights ago: we watched Sideways at Laurie and Jaye’s apartment. Laurie made beef stroganoff from scratch. We had some wine (Sideways is the best wine-drinking movie you’ve ever seen!). Then when the movie was over we spent a long time talking, and finished off by watching an episode of Buffy. All in all, a pretty wonderful way to spend a night. And it cost next to nothing.

As for the novel - gasp - I am almost finished. I am writing the climax now. Well, I should say, I think I’m almost finished. I may be. Things in the characters’ situations are beginning to get incredibly, incredibly fucked up, and I just spent this past week writing this scene cluster, all these conflicts. It was so much fun. I got some really good stuff. Of course, after reading Jonathan Safran Foer I feel like a hack, but I have to do what I do and not compare myself unfairly, I suppose. Still, I wish I could do it like him. But I love this book, and these people, and I love the next one that is trying to get born, which is my novel about Jess. Stuff for it keeps coming to me, and I’d like to get a rough draft of at least the first half done by the end of summer. Next semester is all nonfiction stuff: two nonfiction classes and probably no time for novels, which may actually be nice, as I will be trying to sell “Moving Van People” in this time. Anybody know a literary agent?

In general things are more or less faboo. I can’t believe that. I can’t believe that all the hell that was going on is abating. My habit, after all these years, is to automatically assume that this means something really terrible is getting ready to be born. But hope is the ability to be optimistic when all the evidence is to the contrary. That’s what I’m trying to do.

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.