Friday morning, and I want to go home.

Of course, it would help if i knew where home *is* at this point. It still feels like Albany.

and the worst thing? I just spoke with someone whose experiences in the metals program here inspired him to go into English instead. He was learning jewellery making, more or less what I want to do, and then went on a years apprenticeship with an actual metalsmith/jeweller. he made a lovely piece, and then the laster threw it agains the wall, and it broke. he had learned ideas, but not craft, and that's apparently how they teach here. I don't have any problem with finding ideas, I need to learn craft. The real kind, like how to make something that won't break, that will last in a bog for centuries, or buried in some heap somewhere and still be shining a milenia later. And *this* is what I transferred for? Fine, I'll go back to Albany, take their superior art history courses, and learn conservation before grad school so I actually have some practical experience. And apprentice with Gunnar, whose metals are beautiful. adn more or less period, as well. i doubt that I actually need a degree in art to do what I want to with this as long as I know what I'm doing, all that I really need is the art history to get into grad school. This was such a waste of time and effort, for so very little return. just more pain, and depression, and living on less than I've ever had to in all my days as an impoverished whatever the hell I am. hell, my family was better off when I was in high school.

This has been an utter waste of time, and utterly useless. All that seems to be happening here is that I'm losing Remy, to whatever depression is posessing him at a given moment. I hate watching this, like a trainwreck in slow motion and me helpless to stop it. I don't know where he's gone to, what happened to the happy Remy that i adored so well. Is he even still there, or will he never come back? I don't want to live with a ghost that serves only to remind me that I used to be so very happy.I barely remember happy at this point, in much the same way that I don't quite recall sleep, or proper food, or being healthy. malnourishment is a bad thing.

i don't really know what to say. Things just seem to be adding up higher and higher, getting ever worsre. I think i just want to curl up under a rock and hide until the end of the world.

And this too shall pass.

I don't know why Johnny Cash's death has hit me as hard as it has, and conversely why it hasn't hurt more. I have the endless Johnny Cash folder playing on my computer now, in memorial. Can't really think of anything to say that anyone hasn't said about him, there are many voices more eloquent than mine, so I'll let them speak.

The first song I remember hearing from him was the Boy Named Sue, when I was very small. Someone thought it would be appropriate music for a child. Years later, I found him on a movie soundtrack, playin with U2, and I started listening to him regularly again. His music fit those certain moods that nothing else really matched. He sang about Jesus, and Christianity, and it never bothered me. He meant it. It wasn't a thing he tried to force onto people, it was just there and honest, and real. And you know, this song is probably the best thing to be listening to for bidding him farewell. We just saw the Hurt video, and it's beautiful. Parts of it were like a Dutch painting, the sort where all the fruits are laid out to show both the richness of life and the inevitabilty of death and decay. Even the lighting on it was right for the paintings.... And the rest an autobiography. I cried.

I'd love to see tonight's concert. Barry White and Warren Zevon opening for Johnny and June Cash, together again. I can't imagine an afterlife where they aren't together. It simply couldn't happen. THe admission price for tinight's performance is a bit steep, but the rewards are great.