I am tired of watching things die.
Even start-up companies, who's only birthright was granpappy's money.
Again.
Yesterday evening's sudden supernatural motivation that my two bigger, tougher projects might actually aboutir somewhere interesting, is gone.
This morning's envelopping warmth as David's voice pulled me out of my idle stretching amongst monochrome sheets, is still clinging to the forefront of my suddenly very lonely mind.
Lonely despite the parade of good-morning wishers wandering past my desk, lonely despite the web-boy sending me pictures of him and the girl he's been in love with since last year but afraid to ask out, burned to a chestnut crisp at the beach. Lonely despite the way people have been confiding in me about secret tattoos, or secret wishes for more from life.
Lonely despite the way the wine has gone to my head and the raclette directly to my overfull belly.
It's birthday week, of course, celebrated nationally and apparently internationally, and aside from two identical e-cards (first of the thumbnails) from two people out here who prefer putting on the show of friendship to actual care, we've been throwing hints of celebration about here and there.
And so in the excitement of parting for a lunchtime adventure to a restaurant Savoyard, drowning out the disappointment in friends, heightening the sheer wonder at what I have had the fortune to encounter in my short life,
when Eric the Red, having finally determined that we were possibly heading in a sensible restaurent-like direction (at least as sensible as anything initiated by a monstre could be ;)
announced
"Gila, �a va �tre une des derni�res fois que je prends le diner avec toi"
the world stopped again.
The beginning of the end, the first man to jump ship, two years into mismanaged funds and even more deeply mismanaged projects.
It depends on the person leaving if the sign is death or flourishing... I guess.
I am trying to remind myself that a few of the great creators and publishers and makers and givers and initiators and inventors were once start-ups themselves
But why does it have to be the only good guy who leaves.
It isn't a question, but a realization that yesterday when they asked again if they could hire me away from my consulting firm, it wasn't flattery.
At least he smiled when I raised my little fist and informed him that he WOULD be keeping in touch.
Either way, webkid and I's gross-each-other-out-after-lunch contest today has a touch of ash about the edges.
This first sunny afternoon of the week hasn't yet burned through the sudden atmosphere of mourning.