old king sol

found out i have to leave my apartment for sure. and the new landlord (we can call her junior, but can't imagine i'll write about her very much) though polite wowed me with passive aggressive, and asked me to write her a letter stipulating i'd be out by date x. i said sure but later thought, no way lady. a letter? i'll be out by then i hope, why would i want to stay in this bad vibe bldg, and i see the change as opp, or am trying hard to, yet it all amplifies the feeling of insecurity/vulnerability/what am i doing in life, in my life, after all? am i naive to expect more than a treadmill existence (knowing that my particular treadmill is lucky and well appointed and surrounded by treadmills trod by loving family and friends). i guess i'd say the apt shock highlights all my existential worry. conflate that with the advent of rosh hashana, a holiday designed for introspection, with its constant cry for redempetion, the swells of hope that are sung and also the anguish over hopes not yet fulfilled that is lamented, whether we're talking universal or personal, and the mix is intoxicating and has resulted, for me, in a weekend where everything has reduced to me tears—my mother's inability to make it all alright; my dream that i had a baby and gave it up for adoption; a sermon about peace; reading ecclesiastes (well, part of it, never read it before but a conversation about how it's all about the futility of everything resonated more than a little right now, so i opened it up); seeing friends on the street...all of it. tears. my eyes are tired. so is my pinkie finger and i don't know why.

and i just tried to figure out how to upload photos. tech is supposed to make life easier. i find it makes life harder. i'm in the dumps today.