Poolside in the Arizona winter, surrounded by rows of unoccupied deck chairs and unattractive palms and the hum of heaters. Here solitude mixes with the chilly air like a mouthful of mints. It could be sublime, were it not for the screeching desert sun. No wonder Arizonans look so pickled.

Watching the unraveling trails of airliners, little white ribbons bisecting the towering palms, silent on their journey across the sky. We don’t see many high-flying jets in Houston. Being at the edge of the Gulf, we’re more of a destination than a fly-over town. Phoenix, on the other hand, is one of those fuzzy spots that weary cross-country passengers only notice if their captain is kind enough to point it out. Sorry, Phoenix. You sort of suck.

Tomorrow we depart but I don’t feel like leaving. I like being away from things at home. I like being with Lisa and Larry in their one-room weekly rental apartment. I have grown strangely used to the smell of DSMO and other cancer treatment chemicals. I like eating these strange raw, vegan dishes. And I like spending time with Larry as he battles this fucking disease. Yet I’ve fallen into the same routines I follow in Texas. I spend way too much time doddling on the internet (and reading), way too little time interacting with the humans around me.

–Feb, 6th, 2008

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