My muscles are tight and lazy from hard work in an office chair, scrambling to save, pinch and pinkle every scrap in sight for the great migration back to midtown. Far removed from far away, my car rests impatiently neglected and jealous of the pedals and mountain tred, publicly coveted joyrides spent on my bike. My office and home are clean and clutter free as is my mind for the most part.
The move is a slow and steady flow of necessities only and trinkling of trinkets. I am careful to carry on more baggage of any kind into my new digs and expect the move will take weeks. I am car not haunted or burdened with an addiction to novelty, consumption or ownership. I have brought with me principles of simplicity, mobility, independence and control- packed neatly in my backpack, next to an old Bokowski novel. I disguise the personal implications with crisp language and sneak them to work, so they never escape my thoughts. I came into this new home as light in hand, empty in pocket, and full in mind as I could.
The belly of thoughts I have saved is now wisely dispensed on works, community and meditation. I have become leaner with the expense and my stomach grumbles of real hunger. The bare shelves and matching stomach will not stay for long as I will redecorate and fill them both with only the finest of fuels.
My other appetites are playfully neglected and compensated with constant physical activity, conversation, community and friendship. I have 3 roommates to torment and am comitted to the cause. They keep me entertained with their drunken displays and cheap laughter. All in the house are pleasant and easy going…so far. I, however being the youngest in the house have already been called out to be measured on wit and prowess, challenges I gladly take and asses handed over quickly, quietly and without gloating.
Trooper, my ironically named, slightly timid dog is happy to live with me in such a large home with a playmate and fellow rescue dog Bailey. Trooper has discovered the art of rolling in the dirt, a forgotten practice of childhood all youngsters his age enjoyed. His sleek smooth and shiny black coat turn gray and camoflauged which I am confident he uses to disguise himself from passing, unsuspecting squirrels and rats on the fence. Rumors are floating of murder and decapitation of the vermen, but I have yet to witness a kill.
I began brushing the dust off of neglected projects and scribble stacks of yester year. The half songs and half hearted entries that never made it to post now sit quitely in peripheral like bean cans in a bomb shelter during hard times. My Just in Case pile, things to sort and process- a thickly stacked journey ripe with adventure is clearly ahead for me. In the alphabet of addictions I seem to be stuck on the W’s work, working out and writing. I can’t imagine where they will continue to take me.
