NOTE: As I mentally deconstruct the demise of my marriage, I am publishing a series of short essays about things that happened, the way I felt, and so on. It's intended to illustrate my mental state at the time, and provide a kind of chronicle of my emotional state, hopefully helping me not make the same mistakes in future relationships.

6/5/03 4:30 AM: I'm ... better.

Admittedly, I still have problems dreaming. I still don't remember how to fantasize about happiness without Yuri Hinson as a central tenet, but I'm learning.

Oh, before I get too far into this, Yuri expressed some anger over me revealing certain details about the personal histories of her and her relatives. I apologize for that, although it brings to mind two quotes by favorite white columnist, Jon Carroll ...

"If you tell the truth, you are often selling out the people who are near to you, who have agreed to talk to you, who have told you their stories, who have gone on travels with you. Writers are not nice people, although they may be charming enough."

... and ...

"A writer is a kind of holy sociopath. A writer -- a good one, anyway -- is always in danger of getting run out of town or denounced from the pulpit or charged with self-indulgence or willful obscurantism or just plain rudeness."

Yes, I can admit that's a halfassed apology, I'm only sorry that she's mad, not that I did it. Your mileage may vary.

The reasons why I stopped updating the site for two weeks are ... well, they're the stuff of a Soapbox that, one day, will be available for public review. Actually, two Soapboxes will one day run between parts thirteen and sixteen, but not today. Not soon. Let's just say that there were some ugly, alarming concerns, and now that's all over.

"Over." That's a big word. I've signed a lease on a new apartment in the Jungle (moving back to the neighborhood where I lived for six years, and Yuri's back living with her mother, it's almost like the whole thing has been reset), sliding back into the patterns of budgeting without any real drama. I've been hit on by women in real life, and I've responded favorably. I'm happily proceeding with writing projects, scheduling poetry readings, and warming up a new book for release. I've pretty much reconfigured my life to have no Yuri in it. While I still live in our common home, I have virtually abandoned the parts of the house she frequented, entering them only to vacuum or leave mail.

Likewise, she seems to only come over when I'm asleep, or when I'm gone. I came back from karaoke Monday night, shocked to see the porch light on (as I leave everything off up there, a symbol of the closing down of the house, in my mind, but I will admit a sad part of me almost believed she'd finally come home). She was surprised to find me here early Saturday afternoon, since she didn't know I changed my weekly haircut appointment, and we had another awkward conversation.

It's over. There is no "Hannibal and Yuri" anymore. In a way I'm okay with that. I waited for so long for something to happen, and finally something did. If this was all it took to shatter our bond, with nobody beating anybody or nobody cheating on anybody, it's really best to know that now and move on.

One of my best friends Daniel told me, aside from the agonizing pain and being wracked with self-doubt and recriminations, breaking up with Yuri is the best thing that's happened to me in years. He noted how much more open I am to my friends. He noted how much better I'm dressing. He noted how much more productive I am with my writing (well, save the last two weeks, but again, that's a story for another day).

The disappointment I felt in her has faded, much like my memories of how she felt lying next to me. It simply begins to fade from my mind due to lack of exposure. When I hear her voice, it's a surprise. I'm finally leaving her, as she has so clearly left me, and I kind of like it.

Don't get me wrong -- I'll miss parking my car in the yard, I'll miss the smell of her dreads (which I wrote about in detail, as the actual memory is almost gone), I'll miss making her laugh. But I'll miss it less than I do now. I miss it less than I did two months ago, already. I've been mourning the loss of Yuri for more than a year, any of my friends can tell you that. With that framework, it's a lot easier to move on.

On June 20th, I'm holding what will be the absolute last House of Tabu party here. I'll also, finally, be launching my now-finished poetry book, Born Beneath An Angry Star (soon to be found in the Operative Network Store), and theoretically have the next installment of The Crown on deck as well. Yuri and I were widely known throughout the spoken word circles for throwing some of the finest parties in town (called "The Jenga Couple" for a while, something I put a stop to because everybody was having more fun than me with Yuri often ignoring me after parties), which made everybody think we were such a happy couple. Ehh. At least I stopped calling the party a "wake."

I have about a dozen RSVPs already, and my brother Inpu has threatened to bring his super-dangerous mixed drink, Wiggle. People will have fun. We'll celebrate, one last time, and bid "hail and farewell."

I've been talking about it on message boards and in person, and everyone remarks how much they respect my lack of animosity, how I still view Yuri as a human being with value and flaw, with reason and consequence. On my message board in particular there are some men who've had bitter divorces, and they can't speak any good about their ex-wives. I'll always have a period of happiness, in and of itself, which stood as a shining example of the joy I can achieve. How it looks in retrospect is merely revisionist history. Good times, good times ...

So I'm back, the site is back, and if all is not well with the world, at least it's trying to be. Right now, I'm considering that a major accomplishment.