The approaching end of my drunken era.

You've no doubt noticed that Landry and I haven't been as prolific here as we once were... at least from my side there is a funny shift in my perception of myself... my plan alters slightly, daily... and anyone who knows me well, knows that daily shifts in an otherwise flawless plan make me feel like I have brain tumors. Lots of them.

Over the last few weeks, the following has occurred... making me shift focus one last time to plow through the rest:

1. I have had to plan and replan my trek to Boston on Thursday to get divorced... now safely going with my father - which strikes the perfect balance of support, but not enough leeway to have the nervous breakdown I would no doubt have with Landry. Plus, we all know I'd be worried about getting bail money together to spring her after she either a.) keys his car, or b.) keys his mother.

2. I drank enough (with Landry's assistance of course) to black out to the point of not remembering things I definitely should have. We're all lucky I didn't wind up in a basement in North Carolina mothering 6 kids while chained to a cement wall eating dog food. The store brand, not the good stuff...

3. The amount of power at work, and shifts in my career there, have reached a really brilliant saturation point after months of doing nothing but throwing myself into work. Shortly it will not need so much attention.

4. The transition in my brain of my playmate being a leg of support on my wobbly little path... even with all the restrictions on the situation (placed there by us both, equally) it has entered a state of ease for me that does nothing but help me move forward. After a conversation last night, I realized that I do trust some things because of this hiding place with him... and I am grateful for having that foundation rebuilt at least a little with tiny rocks I didn't notice.

So the point of all this? (and forgive the slight rambling, but I have a cold - unsurprisingly given my week ahead) The point is that there has been a fundamental shift from 'head down/plow through it' to 'now the fuck what?' as I approach what appears to be the other side of all the shit I had to get through this year. Perhaps I'm misjudging the 'end point'... running short of the runway... but right now, barring crashing and burning... I see the end of this draining fucking year. And I thank everyone who kept me drunk enough, held enough, fed enough, and loved just enough through every shitty fucking day of it.