what brings me here? memories, i guess. dreams. wanting to be somewhere familiar. knowing that this is still a place to keep thoughts. i have a ton of google docs going about different subjects - family, art, poetry. but nothing is like the old familiar diaryland. this is where the truthiest of truths live. the unidentifiable thoughts and rants and emotional vomits.

i come here wanting to reread things I wrote - the times have changed, the hair is getting gray, but sometimes the feelings are still the same.

the wife is having surgery soon. hoping that this will help bring her back to normal. this road has been long and rocky and more like limbo than anything definitive. it's hard to talk about someone else's illness and not feel like a selfish asshole. i'm not the sick one. but of course my lived experience has been changed because of her illness. sometimes i feel short changed. most days i'm just happy that we are here. i do not want much from life, i don't think. but i want more for her - i just want her to feel ok again.
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remember when i said i'm an artist? i still am. :) it's hard to talk about my art - it's less shameful than writing long maudlin paragraphs, and less shameful than poetry. but just as hard to explain. i wish i could paint more. but what do you do when you have so many paintings laying around, and you're bad at selling them/promoting them/talking about them. I guess you paint less.