the past couple of days have been a whirlwind. i've been trying to move out of the most perfect little house. i imagined that when i moved out i would need a storage space only for a cedar chest, a footlocker, an elephant, and a pachinko machine. and then a couple of boxes of snowglobes. nothing more.
that is totally not how it is.
i had a dream about the rangerette, last night, by the way.
i have to go back to the house and finish on saturday. i should be there today but i'd missed two days of work already trying to get this shit done. kinda makes me wish i had the balls to just put all of my shit in a big pile, set in on fire and start over.
over the past nine years one of the things i've missed the most about the north east is steam heat. radiators. the coiled kind that you find in older buildings. sometimes they're painted silver. and they suggest sepia toned memories. yellow, smoke-stained light. condensation on the windows. slippers. mittens. hot chocolate. hardwood floors.
last night i was sitting in jenndaly's living room. in her older little texas house. i was looking at her little gas space heater. this particular kind are really common, especially in older houses. open flame. like a tiny gas fire place in the living room. then the bathroom ones that are built into the wall. and i realized how they have worked their way into my memory shelf. and i know in future winters i will be standing in front of my radiator in new york, thinking of texas.
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i had a strange suspicion that the bowie/jew thing was directed at me. this may be true, however, he is not a comedian. he should do just fine in life.
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