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so yesterday was the closing and the move-in, but it will be another two weeks or so before we get to actually MOVE in, due to the disgusting state the house/apartment was left in. I don’t think these people ever once vacuumed or dusted or wiped down the walls or cleaned the bathroom or even used utensils. How people live in such filth is beyond me.

I almost had a stroke yesterday when RG actually picked something off the floor and put it in his mouth. I poured a few cups of bleach down his throat and gave him a decontamination bath after we left the place, so I think we’re okay. I’m watching him closely for signs he’s becoming a filthy puerto rican though, I’ll keep you updated.

jonathan is a freak of nature in bed. like…wowza.

I’ve never had a more wild, satisfying and dizzying time than the days we spent together. honestly, I feel sorry for his wife, because she has him every day, and it must exhaust her. so much pleasure is probably killing her. plus with that new baby? poor, lucky woman.

I couldn’t keep up that intensity. I had him for what…two days? And I’m spent. Out of commission for at least the next week.

then again, maybe it’s just me. probably that’s it.

jeff buckley’s version of this song is sublime. and so very sexy. okay okay.

Seriously, it’s just exhilarating, and on such a deep level. I forgot all about this song until about 20 mins ago, when I was lying in bed listening to my ipod and it suddenly came on. What a refreshing jolt. It made me get up and write. and that takes a lot. To get me out of bed. Really.

Another refreshing jolt: I’m happy. I keep looking around for things to make me feel miserable (and of course there’s no shortage of that), but when I get down to it, when it’s just me and my brain talking things out, I realize it: I’m happy.

Now, before we all get carried away here with rainbows and lollipops and sunshine, let’s just be clear. My version of happiness and the happiness other people claim or aspire to are not quite the same. I’m no less cynical, annoyed and disgusted by much of what I see and deal with on a daily basis, but I’m not depressed. I’m not hunkered down in a state of despair, waiting for death, crying sorry pathetic tears on my sorry pathetic pillow, whispering “oh mortal coil, let me off..” I’m still tortured, longing, unsatisfied christa, but I’m good. I’m good.