Nibble, nibble

[Evocative reverie over at the Daily Dean today. Good, I guess, to know someone got his fill of all that the glamorous life implies. Even during my fabled year and a half of singledom (singlehood?), Sept. '95 to April '97, when I definitely made shift to bite the fruit of whatever naughty trees grabbed me, I never quite got that feeling of satiation: "I've lived," a la Agnes Gooch. I even have the nerve to bitch to John from time to time that I feel dissatisfied...no, not with him (although it's difficult to make it sound otherwise), but with that settled feeling, that all the real crazy adventure is past. The "general allure," while always, always disappointing when made specific, still has a hold.]

[And so, when the oppportunity presents itself, I nibble still the edges of those naughty fruits. (At least part of my illness still lingering has something to do with that.) Am I also just nibbling the edges of responsible adulthood? I envy, but also suspect, Dean's definitive closing of one chapter and opening of another. It seems so neat, so symmetrical...so unrealistic, or at least resembling nothing like life as I see people around me living it.]

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