buried

Perhaps the cemetery was larger than people remembered, or perhaps no one cared. In the Austrian city of Lemberg, today the Ukrainian city of L'viv, a large Jewish temple sat back behind the famed opera house. A cemetery connected the two grand buildings.

When Hitler rolled in his men used the grave stones to pave roads, when Stalin marched through he expanded those roads. As capitalism makes its triumphant stroll, a few of those streets must be rebuilt. As the workers tore up old city streets to upgrade the sewer system they began to find graves well outside the perceived boundaries of the old Jewish cemetery.

The Nazis destroyed the old temple. All that remains is one small marker in Hebrew and English. Some little prick has painted a swastika on the marker. I tried for three hours to think of a more polite word for the person who would do such a thing. You have read the polite form.

Jonathan received more bad news from the latest rounds of medical tests. Things look more bleak now than they have ever looked before. He will need to begin treatments that his body can't physically handle in order to save his life - it's a catch-22 and I'm unbelievably angry and hurt.

My voice cracks and I can't seem to keep on pitch. Sitting alone in an apartment that suddenly seems so massively huge, I sing the songs that have helped before. Number 707 has brought great comfort in the past, today it rings hollow and empty. Today the pain sounds more true.

And I feel like such a selfish prick. I have treated my body horribly - I've eaten whatever I wanted, exercised rarely, and drank cheap liquor - and I'm healthy. I'm healthy. I get to fully realize my hopes and dreams and one of my closest friends might never have that chance.

And the graves are well outside of the perceived boundary of the cemetery. The feelings and thoughts that I'm having are not the typical emotions I should encounter. They are well outside of the boundary - for people to find a hundred years from now.