The comfort of imminent departure & dreaming of a new world, making a religion out of a place. It reminds me of how making lists about portland saved my life... back in 2001, I was 19 and traveling around europe on trains. Gabe and Virginia were in Santander, Spain, at a language camp. We'd planned for me to stay with them for a few days. From Paris, I took two trains and a bus, and Virginia picked me up and took me to the university campus where they were staying. She went to class and I stayed in her dorm room.

Gabe came in and I tried to hug him, but he pushed me away. He said, "I'm in love with someone else." My heart stopped. I said, "So, it's over?" "Yeah. It's over. I don't ever want to be with you again." "Can we be friends?" "No. Not until you get over me." "Why did you tell me to come here then?" "I was afraid to break up with you before." I tried to get him to tell me why, or anything, just tell me something, but he got mad and left.

I disintigrated on the bed, crying uncontrollably, and I could feel myself plummeting into a black hole of despair, I could feel my whole being falling apart. I realized I had to do something or I would die. So I invented a mission: I would find a phone and call Donna. Step by step. I got up and washed my face, and walked unsteadily into the hallway, outside, and I found a payphone on the street. I tried to concentrate on what I was doing and not think about anything. She wasn't home, but her mom told me to call back at 6 (midnight spain time).

So I went back to the dorm, got my bag, and went out on the porch. I figured I couldn't cry in public. And then I started making lists. Endless lists. Things I love about Portland. Things Donna and I can do when we get back. Places we can go. etc. etc. I must have made at least 10 pages of these lists. And I wrote pages of randomness. I didn't write about what happened, but I wrote down elliott smith lyrics, as much as I could remember of my favorite songs. Just keeping busy. Then I read my book, crime and punishment. But mostly the lists saved me. That was when I'd only lived in portland for 9 months. My lists would be a lot longer now. Maybe that's why I'm so obsessed with that city-- I transferred all my love onto it, all my love from people that can hurt me to a place that can never hurt me. Places never leave.

That evening, we all went out drinking in the main square. I ignored gabe. At midnight, I called donna from a payphone in the middle of all the drunken revelers. We talked for at least an hour, and it made me so happy. I'd already had my camera stolen in paris, my beloved Canon SLR, and I said, "The most important things for me used to be photography, traveling, and Gabe. Now I don't have a camera, I don't have Gabe, and I just want to go home!" I stayed in Santander for a few days, swimming in the ocean, ignoring gabe, and smoking hash on a cliff. When I left, Gabe kissed my cheek, which seemed strange. I handed him a letter before I got in the cab to the train station. It said: you are a stranger now... we didn't talk for almost a year.