the loudest guffaws

Spent almost an hour last night talking to KB and in the course of the conversation, the idea of the adopted home was broached; it is still quite clear that Georgia is mine, even after three years in New York. Perhaps it is because I have just come down from a weekend in which I was able to spend good times with former and current Georgians, but I do miss the state and its people so. I love New York for what it is, but it still just doesn't feel like being at home. I've had fleeting moments when it did, I suppose, but overall, no.

We briefly discussed how I have been able to bounce around from place to place for years: three different towns during my high school career alone, driving off to Texas where I didn't know a soul, hopping over to Atlanta for four odd months, being willing to pursue a job in Iowa.

Am I just perpetually restless?

Alcoholics Anonymous members often talk of the "geographic cure", whereby one blames a place, rather than oneself, for one's woes; if you escape the location, you'll escape the frustration.

This is not lost on me.

I am contemplating lopping my hair off.

I am broke as fuck.

You should check this out if you have not already.

You should check this out if you have not already.