...I wanted to start writing every day again, but that has proved unwieldy. We're still settling. Worse, my roommate still isn't in the place, a fact that was really upsetting me until I decided to look at it like this: I'm being paid $2250 a month to help someone sort through 15 years of boxes, and relocate to a smaller place. When I look at it like that, I don't feel so bad, cuz really, sorting through 15 years of somebody else's boxes is no easy feat. It involves TONS of patience, some therapy, a lot of dust and some heavy lifting. Oh, and logistics coordinating. Plus, I make sure she eats properly.
I LOVE where I am now. The apartment is cosmetically beautiful, though what lies beneath can be some very old yuckiness... bad bad wiring, silverfish, giant roaches in the basement. But our place is clean and bright and filled with varnished wood. And the location... wow. I couldn't have landed in a better place... a few blocks from my family, 10 blocks away from my old High School, a few minutes from work. What used to take me an hour and a half on a good day, takes me maybe 15 minutes. ANYWHERE. My Sun goes to school by himself. We can walk to more than one friends house.
And while the Rock was beautiful and peaceful and the entire length of it could be walked in a half hour and I do miss the sea... it was a mile-and-a-half of pretty much the same neighborhood, the same people. Where as, walk a mile and a half in any direction from my new Zero... and the landscape and architecture changes drastically.
Ralph Steadman came through to be reattatched. WOW. Serious coolness. And last week we had a Shepard Fairey. And some kick-ass Pearl Jam posters, limited silkscreens. But I have no money. By the time I pay for my storage unit, various small bills, the phone, maybe a cheap shirt, I'm dumb broke again. I have been battling with public assistance and they won. Though at one point they did throw my some money which I bought a TV with. And between working for roommate and my framing job, there is little to no time for my own shit. I'm starting to feel it. Taking cellphone snaps helps a little... but I look at some of the art and photos that come through to be framed and think shit... I'm at LEAST as talented as this... and MORE talented than THAT and shit if I had the time I could be as talented as THAT.
All things in due time, I guess. I can't complain. I spent so long fighting so hard to hold on to the Rock and my place there, that I am continually amazed that letting go turned out to be infinitely better.
Well... gotta dig up $5 from who knows where to put on the laundry card so I can dry my clothes...