I sat watching the strange little dance of the end of the toilet paper flapping in cool air blowing up from the floor registers. The scene was strangely reassuring. I have been a full week in New Mexico and it all feels like a strange mix of home and foreign to me. My sister drove me around to a couple of our childhood homes and a blunted sadness came over me that made my throat ache a little with the need to cry, but lacking the ability to do so. I suppose it fits in with my perception of everything right now. Whenever I am about to take a big step in my life, my perception of reality seems to lose a bit of its realness if that makes any sense at all. I wonder if it was this type of thing that inspired Salvador Dali or if that was merely hallucinogens. I’m glad I’m not a drug user, but I hate this feeling and it would be nice to know that it would go away if I just stopped taking a little pill or something.

Tonight after dinner and wine, I walked with my sister, her husband and their dog through their neighborhood in the foothills of the Sandias. The sun sank into pinkness and the lights of Albuquerque spread out before us. Albuquerque is by no means a huge city, but the vast spread of that light display overwhelmed me a bit and I was glad for the obstruction of tall houses that seemed to mercifully split up the city into manageable chunks. I don’t know if moving out here is the right thing to do. All I know for certain is that staying put in Pennsylvania feels like the most self-destructive thing I could possibly do.

Well, the cool desert breezes slip through the open window to caress me and tempt me to the inflated mattress on the floor of my sister’s office. Good night and love to all.