It’s 8:23 in the morning, and I just took a break. I needed a break. I’ve been going hard af these last few days, and af wasn’t a misspell. It means “as fuck” if you haven’t heard the word.
My kitchen has been packed up along with my hallway closet and the cabinets where I kept my sheets and towels and printed photographs of the last 40 years.
I found some oldies but goodies, and a envelope labeled “THESE SHOULD NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.”
I listened to my past self and I don’t open that envelope, because I know what’s inside. My first head shots from Las Vegas circa 2001. I looked like a tool. A skinny 150 pound tool with no muscle tone, bad hair, and a pale face. I will NEVER post that picture unless I put it in my book that some publisher will pay me to write.
That will happen sooner than later, but in the meantime I found THIS gem here from early 2004.
That is probably the most “in shape” I ever was, and probably ever will be in my entire life. That was a lot of work. Like 5 days a week at the gym, and the last time I did five days in a row, I pivoted the wrong way and pulled some ligament and wasn’t able to go to the gym for four days, otherwise known as “last week.”
So now I’m that guy who deals with getting older by rolling his own cigarettes as a pre-cursor to quitting, taking glucosamine, and is thinking about buying some more records since I found that ONE Dammit Janet record when I was packing. It is an older progressive house track from way back in 1999 and it sounds like this:
I’m turning into a middle aged indie hipster, not to be confused with an actual hipster which is NOT what I am becoming. That’s right…I don’t mind the term “hipster” if you preface it with an accurate adjective based on an observation from my life. I’ve always been independent. I think that’s a good quality to have, even though I would like someone to depend on too.
Anyways, I may not have the body I did back then…but mentally, I feel like I look in that picture. I think if I had a choice, I’d rather live with the latter.
The kitchen was kind of boring to pack, so I’ll skip that and go straight to the hardest part of the last two days. Taking picture frames and pictures off the wall. It saddened me to do this. I got SO sad that a part me of thought the only way to cheer myself up would be to buy a NEW picture online from a Rocky movie and get that framed when I finally figure out where the fuck in Seattle I will live.
Oh yeah, by the way.
I don’t have a job yet, and I don’t know where I’m going to live, but for some reason I know I’ll be fine. (Remind me to tell you a story about how I stopped getting panic attacks on the first day I thought about leaving L.A.)
Back to the pictures…here’s a little bit of them
That’s my hand on the road to Arizona in the middle. That’s not part of the picture by the way, I’m just saying hi.
I took all of those. Two in Vegas, one in Sedona, one Rabbit in Hollywood and my fave. Me taking a picture of Tasha taking a picture of the Grand Canyon. There are about 25 more of these glass framed moments in my life, so I carefully wrapped them in old tee-shirts and label the box “fragile, glass, picture frames” NO STACKING!
I think the movers will get it.
The living room, kitchen and hallway are done, and the last two things I do are vacuum the Flyers rug and other throw rugs, and pack them in my old trash can which I cleaned out for the first time in 6 years. Gross.
Rocco runs into the kitchen, looking for the rug he used to stand on and beg for a goldfish cracker. I text Tasha to remind her to bring over a rug for Rocco when she comes by this weekend.
I get the response, Lol I love Rocco.
Me too. I’m gonna miss my little buddy more than I will miss this city, and I’m totally ok with that.
I put the last box in the pile and I label it “Random Shit” cause that’s what a few sweatshirts, a Christmas Tree, a lamp and a lampshade, and a little baggie full of office supplies are.
Box Count as of today: 14