Young Geoffrey (ed_rex) wrote,
Young Geoffrey
ed_rex

First of all, this is long - very long - overdue. The best 17 year-old writer I've known since I was 17, ellie_elephant, who might well take the world by storm in the not too distant future, posted a story to a writing group back in February that you should all have a look at. Though its a story that deals with an incestuous relationship it is neither pornographic nor cliched. I enjoyed reading it and felt like I had been given a tour of a world not my own by a really good guide. I've been intending to say something more in depth about for - er - 2 months now, but fear that's not going to happen, so I'll just say this: you should read it.

Second, it's been a week now since Laura officially moved in with me, and about 3 weeks since she did de facto.

We're celebrating the "anniversay" by spending time apart. She's off to a party whose host doesn't approve of my ancientness and I, too burned out after last night's bachanal to have tried to (finally) get together with missnegativity instead chose to read the paper on a patio (yes, Rhino's) and come home to enjoy an empty apartment.

All thing considered, I believe we are doing very well in our experiment. I was, at first, a little miffed that I wasn't invited, but (Laura's) reason has settled in. Besides the host's discomfort with the fact of my age, "I see you every day!" she said, "I need to get out and let loose on my own once in a while."

Well, yes. I understand, and even agree. I don't really like the fact that she wants to get away from me sometimes, but it makes (rational) sense and I am coming to be comfortable with it. And I hope she wakes me up when she staggers in, however late that may be.

I don't suppose you people really want to hear about my bliss in detail, so I'll just say that I am the luckiest man in the world, blessed with the presence of a beautiful, brilliant woman, who makes me laugh, who for some reason glories in my physicality, and whom I am grateful as fucking hell to have in my life.

I never claimed to be a poet. Onward.

The smoking situation isn't good. I'm puffing even as I type and have been for a couple of weeks. (Those of you paying attention will soon see a change on my post-dated entry at the top of my page.) Newest quit-date is Monday. We'll see how that goes.

I am disturbed by the stupidity of the Canadian people, who seem determined to replace an ineffective Prime Minister with one who might well oversee the dismantling of the country I love while ignoring the NDP as an alternative, but I am unwilling to despair. Things (can) change fast in politics - and besides, it's spring.

Meanwhile, Laura and I are both slobs and the transition from a one to two-person apartment is moving slowly. Laura's clothes and books completely cover the floor of our bedroom, but we're working on it. We'll be having a party sooner rather than later, if only to goose ourselves towards getting the place in order. Keep your eyes peeled for the announcement.

And that's it. An update - of sorts. (Ya want polished prose? Pay for it!)
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