It's a longing. The pulling of the hair, the restless nights, the heavy eyes. It all points to an almost incomprehensible longing. I've been stuck in this limbo too long, waiting for the scale to tip this way or that, to root me here or suck me back to the bustle and familiar routine of Los Angeles. True, the turn of events that brought me to this point, sprawled on a full-size bed in this first-floor apartment living room is ridiculous to say the least; vagabonding up and down the coast before stopping to breathe in Santa Cruz. And still, there's a sense of settlement missing that I haven't felt since before leaving for Europe. That was four months ago.
I can feel my brain trying to fill this void, and the lapse in time is beginning to take it's toll. It's like a race-engine running in the red for too long, and for my sake I hope it's got a few more laps in it.
