On the other side of the solstice.
I am in the sky again. I don't think of you like I used to, though of course I do still think of you dearly. This time, as the false progeny of my father's (now-deceased) father, I am traveling to Reno, to visit the cousin I've told you about. I will be buying land, hopefully before July is out-- I don't know how long the process takes once I've made my official offer.
I'll be leaving Chicago "permanently" (what is true permanence) at the end of August, on or around my birthday. Do you remember when my birthday is?
For the past day, I've been seeing Chicago in a new way, with the knowledge that I will be leaving. My eyes are open and my senses piqued.
I remember with fondness my family's last trip as a family unit in December 2007 and January 2008, when my sober mother made amends with the Matriarch who raised my father. We stayed in an Earthship.
That whole trip was colored by Bright Eyes' 2007 album "Cassadaga," a lush album from the usually-sparse Conor Oberst, and the first (to my knowledge) of his forays into folksy twang.
This trip: I've just discovered Oliver Peck, and his album "Pony" is playing in my ears (as gin/tonic plays in my circulatory system and brain) as I write this. He is a wonderful color-- I wonder what this trip will look like when I have enough distance to look back on it.
I am writing this letter for the sake of balance (it seems right to write something to you again while I'm displaced in the sky), and because my last few attempts at reaching out-- over the course of a couple months-- have gone unanswered. I hope you're doing well.
-XO Mx. Protz
