Monday, March 29, 2010

Moving is an art... everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out...

[with decided apologies to Sylvia Plath!] :)


I've been packing up boxes to mail home all week, which has been much more time-consuming and exhausting than I'd expected. I was supposed to, according to my self-imposed schedule, have been done with packing all but my computer by Sunday, then mailed all today (Monday), but... Nah. I'd left all of my paperwork and personal stuff for last, so I spent more than 6 hours today sorting everything out, tossing stuff, then boxing/taping/addressing. Interminable and grimy and potentially depressing work, except for the fact that there's also a sort of "cleansing" that takes place when you're forced to edit down to the essentials. ("What's really important to me?")

I still have 8 boxes to lug to the post office Tuesday. (No car, so I have to cart the suckers in separate trips to the PO, which is several blocks away. Will, via shopping cart, take 3 trips and about 2-1/2 hours.) Whew. I'm tuckered out.

All of this latest packing up made me think of all of the moving I've done in the past. A bunch. And how tired I am of it, both mentally and physically. (At least when I was a kid, I didn't have to do the physical work all by myself!)

'65 - '77 (baby to 6th grade): Lived in 6 different locales (3 in different Texas cities, 1 in Portugal, 1 in South Carolina, 1 in Georgia)
'77 - '83 (6th - 12th grade): Azle, Texas. 1 house.
'83 - '88: Austin, Texas. (5 different places)
'88: Fort Worth, Texas. (2 different places)
'89 - '94: Austin. (5 different places)
'94 - '95: San Francisco. (2 different places)
'95 - 2007: Austin. ('95 - '00, 3 places; '00 - '07, same place)
'07 - '10: New York City/Weehawken. (3 places in first year; same place for last 2 years)

Is there a lesson for me there? For instance, I've lived longest in one spot in my Azle house as a teen (6 years) and in my Austin rented house as an adult (6 years). Azle, I have no sense of security about, no desire AT ALL to ever go back there. Austin: Those 6 years were fine, but, again, it's not like they instilled a sense of "home" or "security" in me... I think the "lesson" might be: It's a real pain in the ass to move around all the time. Thinking that things might be magically better, when in fact they almost always turn out to be pretty much exactly the same (unless you're escaping from an incompatible roommate/lover -- in which case: Move, move! And learn a lesson about moving in with such in the first place!). So why not just stay somewhere -- sans roommate, of course -- and avoid all the moving crap? Hmmmm. May be.

Ironically, despite my newfound-mature wants and wishes, I'm still not going to be situated for months to come after leaving NYC/Weehawken. First: All my stuff, and me, is off to my mom's house in San Antonio. Then SHE, with me and my boxed-up stuff trailing along, moves to a new house in Austin a few weeks later. Where I sit with all of my boxed-up stuff (and no cable or car) until I can find some/any lowly job and finally get my own place again... which will most likely be a cheap, loud apartment amidst equally poor college kids that I can't wait to get away from once I get a better-paying job more suited to my "lofty" and "mature" standards.

Jesus, what a grind. If I were more pleasant and charming, I'd be out shopping for a Sugar Mama/Daddy/Anyone to ensconce me in a manse. Yes, that's right. After all of this dislocation, I've now been driven to wanting to be "ensconced" in a goddamn "manse."

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