Happy Birthday, Jessie!

Yay! August 5th, and Jess is 24 years old!!! Happy Birthday, baby :)

Festivities began tonight at the Monterey Bay Fish Grotto on Mount Washington, a beautiful restaurant with a grand view of the city (they actually call all the restaurants up there the "Grand View" restaurants, and truly, if you come to Pittsburgh, it shouldn't be missed). It was a deliciously-spent $99 and a lovely meal... I had the sockeye salmon and Jess had the Naigari Marlin - delish. They also have, to date, the world's best french onion soup. Highly recommended.

Later today we're heading out with her family for another dinner, and then Sunday it's a pool party with the peeps over at Tara and Ben's.

I've been drama lately. Had a bit of a crisis today in that I am totally adrift, steerless, rudderless, washing up against the shores of interest and wondering whether the sand is sturdy enough to set foot. Translation: What the fuck am I supposed to do here on this planet? We saw Superman Returns today, and I left the theater enthralled, entranced, and utterly depressed at reality. When I watch a movie, I give myself totally to the experience. I invite it in, hang its coat on my wall, and let it take me where it shall. That's why I can't watch scary movies - for those few moments, what is up there is real. I can't distinguish between the waking world and the screen, and when I leave my world is forever altered. It's a small price to pay for the truly transcendant moments, and it is why I love movies, but it is exhausting.

I'm still in the twin bed at mom's house. It's amazing the number of reasons one can find to put off moving. It would be easier if Jess were not here, if the apartment had internet access, but Saturday night is the night. THE night. I need to find the sheets for the bed, finish building the computer desk, and go.

I was in Cleveland on Thursday for a job. We were at Key Tower, the headquarters for Key Bank, a lavishly decorated temple to the dollar: gorgeous mahogany on every wall, windows so towering that one can see for miles and miles over Cleveland. While we were there, on the 56th floor, a thunderstorm raged through the city, and the clouds were passing by us at eye-level, curling around the building, dark and creeping. I felt like I could have opened the window and let in the storm. It's amazing the places you'll go with a video camera and a microphone.

I've been looking into the Writing for Stage and Screen masters program at Northwestern University. It seems like an amazing mix of education and opportunity. You write, among other things, a play, a screenplay, a thesis, and you get $5000 to produce your thesis. I'm sure it's very competitive, and they evaluate you based on a 10-page writing sample. Your words, naked in front of a stranger, in the context of thousands of others stories that are also 10 pages... the odds of navigating this asteroid field is approximately 3,720 to... yeah. It's a longshot. But it would be a new adventure in a new city, studying with professionals who've made something of themselves. So many of the people I interact with are in the same boat, all looking at each other for directions on how to row, and what I think I need is to consult people who've had their sea legs for a while longer, find out the strokes that best use the oar.

That's what I really want, I guess; to go to bed at night having meaningfully displaced a little water.

The night air outside my window has a taste of magic on it, like somewhere nearby, in the trees in front of my house, a few of the old songs are still being sung. I find myself wanting to sleep outside, curled up in the grass, blanketed by night. It's rare now to hear the old melodies, to get a chance to dance to the old rhythms. I desire very much to hear them more often. They are soft and quiet and very much alive.

Yours,
Martin