writing in LAX is weird,

mostly because there is a skinny white hipster-boy a table over sneaking glances at me. how weird. a white-boy checking me out.

anyway, just had a beautiful afternoon moment with chris morado, my mega-, which is the only way i know how to say that i believe i'm her mini-. her new LA apartment in west LA is gorgeous, really gorgeous, and she is happy. and pam is happy. might i be happy in LA? in an apartment that costs the same or a little bit more than my new york one but is better, oh so much better? in a different job, with a car that could take me home to my parents on the regular, with surpluses to bring me to new york without killing me? would it be worth it to get away from the city that holds the architecture of my broken heart? to rebuild, somewhere else, some other way?

i don't know. but, of course, i'm considering it, like i consider everything. not ready to make a move yet, that much i know, but it would be interesting. to move back to the place where i was happily single. before i felt the need to embrace internet dating, to meet my "match."

i'm putting the thought to bed, but am fairly sure that it will resurface, sooner rather than later. i hope i'm ready.