If I lean just far enough forward from where I’m sitting, I can look out the front window to the west, where the light blue still glows just above the mountain line in the distance, another of those twilights I’m so wild about. Solitude and solidarity, those black branches of the near-blossomed trees silhouetted against that since-set sun. A death, in a way I suppose. But with the sun you know it will be back tomorrow. You know tomorrow will be warm, and there’s something beautiful illuminated in its passing, a twilight glow, a spattering of sparkling skies.

Maybe it goes back to what I said yesterday, maybe it goes along that in being afraid of the dark, when night falls, all you see is the darkness and you’re unwilling to see any stars. Unwilling or not, Colorado is beautiful, but I don’t see the stars, and I don’t remember any twilight.

“Where are you going?” A voice shouts outside my open front window, a car engine idling, a voice shouting back:

“Chelsea’s.”

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry dude. You want my parking space?”

“Absolutely!”

Got up from typing to see who it was. Pothead neighbors, it looks like. A Chrysler backs into a space, hooks around, and waits for his roommate to pull from the spot and drive off. Maybe one day I’ll introduce myself, say hello.

Maybe.

My shipped boxes arrived today. Finally. So I’ve been busy unpacking, unloading the scattered remnants of my old life into this new, empty one. A television, a few DVDs, a few television shows. The unpacking will take a while. Tomorrow I plan to go to the store and look into some shelving, some kitchen utensils.

It’s difficult to shop for the long term in a place like this. I don’t have work, I don’t have school, I don’t have anywhere to be, and Colorado was a sight seen along the road, a place to be revisited. This still feels like a vacation, only a vacation with rent due monthly.

I need to change my way of thinking. That will start tomorrow. I need to make this hollow place a home, to settle in more permanently. To start looking for work and introducing myself to people. I’m not escaping anything if I don’t let go, or make anew. It’ll be as good as Philadelphia in my living room.

So tonight the television is plugged in, my DVD player on the floor next to it, and rented movies, the ones that don’t remind me of home, of college, or anywhere else, will cast funny shadows into the house. I’ll invite the stranger I live with to watch with me. And hopefully that alien, separate, empty space from the hallway, kitchen, and bedroom won’t feel so foreign. Hopefully.