• My Brain On Crack

    Still Here

    So yes, I moved.  I packed up my car with all my stuff, reported in with Canada (bye! don’t let the door hit you on the way out!) and moved in. So did the snow. Then I was snowed in. Because of the snow. And the steep steep hill.  And an appalling dearth of snowplows. It was sort of peaceful until the propane tank ran dry. And then it got cold. But there was this weird sense of denial that I had, of enjoyment of the fact that I had little and was making due with A Chair and A Bed and a package of rice cakes and some butter.…

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  • My Brain On Crack

    Prioritizing

    This is my last night in Vancouver. Oh, come on. Not, like, EVER. I’ll be back. Sometime. But everything I own is stacked here next to me. Quite a sight! There are 7 boxes and 2 in the car already. Plus 1 more in the back with computer stuff in it, because GOD HELP ME IF THERE WAS A GOD IF I HAVE TO GO WITHOUT INTERNET. Plus some smaller boxes and some suitcasey things and 2 bottles of wine and a wooden horse statue that used to stand next to the fireplace lo these many years ago in the house I grew up in. And upstairs is a small…

  • Blame Canada,  Ho, Earthling!

    I Totally Moved Here For The Dollar Coins

    Last week I was in Washington, in that country that wanted me back so badly that at the border the Drug Dog took a shine to the rear end of my car and the three border guards standing around there with nothing better to do started peering through the back windows at the two boxes in the back of my vehicle and asking me questions like, “So, have you run over any animals lately?” I thought the prudent course was deny-deny-deny, so I put on my most innocent, shocked expression and feigned innocent shock. “N-n-no! I don’t think so!” I managed to stutter, innocently. That was the wrong answer. This…

  • Ho, Earthling!

    It’s Official

    Next week I say au revoir to Canada, though not permanently of course. Our paths will cross again. I’ve already bought a bed. After struggling with the symbolism of what it would mean to own furniture again after feeling the heady freedom of saying “Everything I own is right here in my car!” for the past six months, I bought some. Well, one furniture. A bed. Surely that’s symbolic, too. A bed means comfort to me. Home. Warmth. Love. Not just any bed: I figured that as long as I am doing this I may as well do it up right. This is MY bed. So it’s the most comfortable…

  • Ho, Earthling!

    Home

    I have a home again. At least, I left a deposit check and a lot of information about myself, and it’s my hope that it will mean picking up keys in a couple of weeks and then trying valiantly to fill a space that I already know is too big, but what the hell? Shopping for places to live has consumed me for weeks.  Several times a day I’d comb through the offerings on Craigslist, looking for treasure. The perfect place, summed up in a paragraph and, if I was lucky, a couple of blurry photos. I hunted down property management companies and sifted through their inventory.  I saw, after…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Pride Goeth Before The Fall

    Or something like that. Far be it from me, with an athiestic upbringing and a pagan belief system rooted in the practice of and belief in reincarnation and the oneness of everything, to quote accurately from anything remotely Biblical, but there you are. And here am I. Here’s the deal: what if you were incredibly optimistic some of the time, seeing everything in its shiny newness, seeing the amazing and myriad possibilities that exists for each of us in any given moment, seeing your own magical perfection and ability to DO ANYTHING AT ANY TIME? That would be great, right? So what if, some of the time, you saw nothing…

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