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KPFA Protest march.
August 12th, 1999

I do feel better about moving, particularly after I called eight truck rental outfits in a row this afternoon before finding one with a truck available on Saturday. The first seven didn't exactly laugh, what with everybody being so client oriented and all that, but I got the distinct impression only idiots and people with keepers tried to rent trucks two days before the weekend. I retain some curiosity about my behavior: waiting until yesterday to confirm the moving guys were still available for Saturday, for example; waiting until Thursday to rent a truck on Saturday morning in the middle of the summer when everyone has already reserved their truck a month in advance; sitting here in my living room hallucinating some dire feeling of nameless dread because the project is somehow hopeless. All these books stacked on shelves I will never read again, all these lp records I will never play again (well, almost never again) with me sitting here in the middle enervated energy zero and dropping.

The wine glasses survived, by the way. I dropped off another load on the way to work this morning moving the bulk of the kitchen contents to the new place. The catnip plant looks good. It was a little wilted yesterday when I put it out on the balcony so I gave it water. Looks like one of those big drinkers. Checked the thumbs. No change in color. I'll ask MSW.

I obviously can't write much these evenings and still move boxes to the new apartment, so this is short and I still have to scrape up a photograph for the banner. Time to pack those boxes. Time to drive to the new apartment. The joy of moving.

The photographs were taken at the KPFA Protest March in Berkeley.