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Kris and I had another talk yesterday. Actually, it was several short talks interspersed with a lot of silence.

He’s pretty serious about his move to Palm Springs. At one point, he’d told me his brother is coming in from Paris in October to help him move, and that we need to talk to what to do about the house here in El Sobrante.

I was hoping I’d understood his intentions wrong, but I didn’t. His plan is for us to sell the house, in the currently decimated housing market, so that I can afford to rent him a house there in Palm Springs. Why? Because we live in the middle of nowhere, and he’s lonely.

I tried to gently point out that we’re not in the middle of nowhere, situated as we are 20 minutes outside San Francisco, which last time I checked was a major metropolis. I also mentioned that, in the 10 years I’ve known him, I’ve never once heard him speak to anyone in Palm Springs. Reality, however, doesn’t seem to be a factor in this decision.

Eventually, I had to walk away. I don’t get angry easily, but I’ve been seething since yesterday. I’m not sure what to do about it, so I’ve just kept my mouth shut.

I’m no math whiz, but from where I’m sitting losing a ton of money and my home, and then continuing to pay for a house I’ll probably never see, just isn’t adding up for me. I supported him for a decade: if he wanted anything, he got it, and I never held that against him. What he wants now, though, is just too much.

Now I just need to figure out how to explain that to him in a way that won’t turn things really ugly.

I’ve been back home now for a couple weeks now. Things have been civil, if not warm. It almost feels like we’re living in two different dimensions; we rarely cross paths, and when we do it’s a bit like the other one of us doesn’t exist.

When we have talked, it’s been mainly about how Kris wants to move to Palm Springs. For those of you not familiar with Southern California geography, that’s a little spot in the desert about a couple hours from Los Angeles where rich people go to die, circuit queens go to get fucked up, and lesbians go to play golf, all on a fairly regularly rotating schedule that I’m sure they’ve spent a lot of time working out with each other so they’d never need to meet each other again.

I really don’t like the place, but Kris thinks it’d be good for his jewelry business. He also feels isolated here in the suburbs 20 minutes outside San Francisco, and has decided that moving to a speck of a town in the middle of the desert will fix that problem. I’d chuckle at the irony of it if not for the part of his plan that involves me renting him a house with a pool (he was very specific about the pool) in a place I’d never want to go.

What I really think I need is a pair of balls big enough to tell him to just go and get it over with, but I haven’t been able to. I’m not sure why.

I haven’t been home since Monday morning. I’m staying with a friend in a little room with a twin bed, and making the trek into work from Concord to downtown every day, so I’m spending a bit more time on the road.

I’m holding up better than i thought I would. I miss the dogs, and the desktop computer (my God, I haven’t synced the iPod since Monday), and the California King, but other than that I can’t say the last few days have been too awful.

There has been one phone call, about mid-week, that ended when I was hung up on, and one phone call yesterday because Vonage wasn’t working at home, but other than that I haven’t spoken with Kris. I’m not sure if it’s over or we’re just at an impasse, and I’m wondering how long it will go on like this. I do know that, even though Kris shouted something about packing up and leaving just before he slammed down the phone, the eBay notification about auctions he’s won would seem to indicate he’s planning on sticking around at least long enough for a few weeks’ worth of jewelry deliveries.

I also know that I don’t want to just go back to how things have been recently, with Kris being in a perpetual state of pissed off, and me feeling like I’m not welcome in my own home. It’s just not healthy for either of us, and by all indications all it does is get worse.

On a totally unrelated note, the guys at work have me playing around with Brightkite and Twitter. If you find me fascinating in any way, the banality and repetition that is my life is laid out in excruciating detail between those two, and they should cure you of any misconceptions you may have that I’m at all interesting.

It’s been quiet around the house for a little over a week now. Not a peaceful kind of quiet, but a heavy, emotionally-charged, oppressive sort of silence, of the “I’m not speaking to you” variety.

It happens a lot around this place, though as time goes by it’s been happening a lot more frequently.  This is also the longest it’s ever lasted; except for one quick five-word blast of anger last Sunday, Kris hasn’t spoken to me since last Thursday.

I won’t go into what prompted it, but I assure you that the reaction I’ve gotten to what triggered this is obscenely overblown and bordering on irrational. He’s essentially locked himself away upstairs for the last week, and has told the counselor we’ve been seeing to schedule a final appointment. I think I may have been broken up with, but since he won’t say anything I really can’t be sure.

I should feel worse about it, I suppose, but it’s hard to work up a lot of sorrow over losing a relationship with someone who has obviously lost his mind.