“For Dinner They Had Wine and Crap Cakes.”

I’ve left most of the friendships I’ve cultivated in faraway lands, including one that had just started six months before I came here, and had the potential to be really incredible. Many of the departed friends seem to have forgotten about me, but others have kept in touch, and still other friendships have flourished. 

I live and sleep with the best (and sexiest) friend I’ve ever had. 

Her friends are, likewise, some of the coolest people I’ve met (a bit odd, at times, but aren’t we all?). Her Hometown Friend and I have formed a pretty good bond of comic books and silliness. I adore my coworkers, the Radio Guy and the Buff Hippie. 

I’ve been having meals and firepit chats with many of these new people, and having an incredible amount of fun with them. With my new life, I am happier than I’ve ever been; but I can’t seem to shake this weird disconnect from them. I can’t explain it.  

I don’t necessarily miss the fun and games of New York. But I miss the people I played with. E-mail isn’t the same. 

I seem to remember feeling this way in New York, before the fun and games. Maybe it’s just an adjustment period. I’m asking the runes, since their advice told me a lost (turns out she was sick) friend would show back up. They say “Mannaz,” in reverse, which I guess, is “Zannam.” That means I won’t find the clearing of my “blockage” from outside of myself; and to “Strive to live the ordinary life in a nonordinary way.” 

Sounds good to me. Feeling sad, but full of hope, which brings joy with it. 

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