I arrived back from Columbus this morning (well, arrived at work -- haven't yet gone home). While it was a good trip, a lot of things I was looking for didn't seem to be there. On my way there, I had the oddest impression that I was really going there to see a certain, specific person, but that some part of my brain kept reminding me that that person does not exist, and that I should forget both them and the fact that I had that thought. There have been times where I've worked on forgetting people and things, sometimes with fair success, but as far as I know, it's always left at least some kind of a fuzzy memory -- I wonder if I really have managed to intentionally forget someone that I really miss, or if it's just one of those things -- weird interpretations of flakey memories that arn't entirely there. I was in a sense visiting a number of people who were both there and not there anymore. I could almost see the blue light of Insomnia one of the times I went down high street, with such a vivid memory of it that some part of me was surprised not to see the dark tables outside and the lit interior with the usual crowd. A friend remarked that Insomnia always drew a mix of people that was surprising, from a handful of really eminent professors to people deeply pierced. I could almost see myself and my friends sitting outside again as the lights above flickered, faded, and returned due to heat on the filament. All those times I went there alone, and eventually met up with TimW, Jason, and Dawon, endless series of nights sitting, reading, playing on my laptop, talking with people, that time that MathAdam and I met up, and he flipped a coin to convince me to go with him to the Girl Bar. Digging back further in memory, that Insomnia was a place I adopted to cope with the loss of Martha, that it was in a real sense a therapy that became a home. I drove by that place on high street where I did part of falling in love for the first time, and the place on Northwood where the other part was. Outland being dead, the last big stronghold of alternative Columbus is gone. I tried the High Five, a place that hopes to be in part a continuation of the alternative -- it's decently big, has good food, and may eventually be what Insomnia was (although it's too far from campus to be so fully, and it lacks the run-down charm). I had a conversation there with a guy who was born to ex-pats in Japan, studies martial arts, and roams southeastern asia to do that and to hang out. An interesting life. Not long after I reached Columbus, I hung out with Martha (also visiting Columbus), Justin, and Gaelynn in another new coffeeshop a ways north of campus. It's been awhile since I've seen any of them, and was fun to chat. M and G seem to think that Qatar would be a very good thing to do. We later talked a bit about politics, different general ways to live one's work-life, and art. I got to bore a few people with my photo collection too. Dubin, Brian, and I had dinner at Indian Oven, and the owner still remembered my name after all this time. That's pretty amazing. Apparently one of my sisters visits there frequently though, so that might help. I then saw a few friends I haven't seen for ages, including a fellow philosopher, at Vic's (where we had, naturally, a long philosophical discussion), and then some of us went to his house where we saw part of what looks to be a very strange film -- Mulholland Drive (added to my Netflix). The next day I met with my friend Mac and his wife, and talked computers while having yet more indian food, then bubble tea, and finally visiting Micro Centre. Later, I tried to visit a pair of friends who are also really talented artists that I haven't seen in ages, but they wern't in. The trip ended with another group of friends, HoundDogs, abortive attempts to visit more places that ended up closed, and finally at an Irish pub where I confirmed that I can't successfully drink scotch. The whole trip was a strong reminder that I have a low tolerance for alcohol -- I had some good plum wine at the high five, and the barkeep gave me and a few other people a gratis shot of sake too while we were talking to him. Both were pretty good, but my stomach became queasy almost immediately. I guess it's the family curse (or blessing) from my Dad's side at play. Anyhow, I left Columbus around 2am, but was reminded by my body that I'm not as young as I once was -- I had to make use of the services of the glorious Hotel Rest-stop partway home. I think I slept for about 3 hours once I managed to get to sleep, and while it wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, it was kind of fun, and when I started back on my way, I was driving in a beautiful mix of sunshine and fog. Once I get a few more things done for work, I'll probably finally head home and get a bit of sleep before I decide what to do with the evening.

The things I didn't see were, as I noted, large in number. I didn't see Amanda, but I remembered the last time I visited Columbus and went out to grab food with her (I think not long after breaking up with Debb for the first time). Of course, she's off on the West Coast now, so it'll be awhile before I see her again, I think. Aug and Amanda2 are out of town for a conference. Woody is still off in BFE somewhere, last I heard, although he moved considerably before I did. A part of me wanted to see Charles, at least for a bit, but he's off in Cleveland. I don't have any way to contact my old philosophy group anymore, so I hope they're doing well. I miss the SFF crowd as a mass too -- I wish I had come on the right day/weekend for a meeting or a social. Lorie is out west, as is Jason. Dawon was out of town with her boyfriend, and a number of other people I tried to see had either moved or were unavailable. Such is life -- I miss the closeness I once had with people at various times there. It was a vivid experience -- all the memories stirred and past paths I have crossed, long repetitions of certain drives to do things that no longer are my life, I miss that. Mentally, Columbus feels more like my childhood than Brecksville or Dallas did. It will probably always feel like home (albeit a dumpy one). One particular amusement -- Korea restaurant, the place on High where I used to have very authentic and good Korean food (although not actually so much to my liking), because of the widening of Lane Avenue, no longer is a hidden restaurant down a long narrow walkway between two buildings -- it's now exposed to the air, like a turtle with it's shell cracked and fallen off. It looks strange like that, having once been so private-feeling. It's strange how the buildings themselves can evoke memories almost as strongly as the people -- the meaning is certainly in the fluids, not the solids, but the solids can put one temporarily back where one was effectively too. With the right effort, I can reopen old boxes full of pain and desire and other things, but that's useless and nonproductive, especially given that I still have fresh versions of those things to deal with, and still need to work on stifling my present feelings of love. I didn't feel very alone while I was there though, and that was a start.

I think a mix of the alcohol, large amounts of indian food, and other things have conspired to make me feel kind of ill.

Now to wrap up the work and head home for some sleep! w00t! If only I had internet at home... sigh.