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August 12th, 1999
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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.
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The photographs were taken at the KPFA Protest March in Berkeley.
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