October 16th, 2008

magic missile

Calgon, take me away. Better yet, pack my crap for me...

In theory, large men come tomorrow to cart my earthly possessions away.

For my part, I have completely lost touch with reality. I have slept maybe 20 hours in the last week, and I'm channeling Apu from the Simpsons when he thought he was a hummingbird. I cannot tell what day it is, what happened yesterday, today, or last week, and if you ask me something, I will stare at you.

I have moved maybe 35, 40 times in my life -- 18 times before I went to college. I am heartily sick of moving. I have boxes I haven't unpacked since 1992. I never want to see cardboard or sticky tape again. I want something to be somewhere long enough so I have to dust the fucker, whatever it is.

I have to pack the computer now. For someone who originally didn't want one, who resisted email and the internet kicking and screaming, I find it's like pulling a jack from my brain. When I just can't carry on my part of the conversation in person, I find I can still type. Even strung out and tired, there are some little automatic things I can do on the internet, and it is its own opiate.

Good thing I have the laptop or I'd just wander in front of the house, lost, wearing kleenex boxes on my feet like Howard Hughes. Let's hope there's wireless hotspots or I'm just gonna have to commit a home-invasion spree. Hey, maybe I'll be famous and in the news.

If I go to prison, will they make me pack my stuff or will they do it for me?
  • Current Mood
    awake awake
  • Tags