2002-09-08 - 12:53 a.m.

So I'm happy, safe, warm, and comfortable. A little broke, but I should be fine soon.

I wake up happy every day. And I don't know why I'm supposed to be happy when I get up.

And then I remember. I'm in a new apartment, things are different, probably better. I have a reason to be happy.

There are still boxes in the living room. With stuff in them. I'm very glad about that. I want to prolong the just movedfeel as long as possible.

Funny--I organized my box of stuff that I don't need but that I wanna save (previously labeled scattered pictures, memories of the way we were, etc...). I've been carrying this crap (old college papers, bank statements, ticket stubs, lotsa etc.) from dorm to dorm to apartment to apartment. And I actually sorted through it all. And threw some of it away. Yay! But funny, I organized crap into manilla envelopes. Several envelopes devoted to pictures. These envelopes placed neatly in a box. A box which fit quite conveniently into a closet.

What did I do tonight? Open the box. Open the manilla envelopes. Scatter the pictures. All over the room. I'm like that mythical jackass that has to keep rolling the boulder uphill, at least in this regard.

Oh yeah, new apartment. I feel like I'm a kid three days after Christmas, scampering from one toy to the next, and then the next, and then back to the first, none of them yet boring, broken, or otherwise less than new.

Oh, and nothing is going wrong right now. Maybe tomorrow something will, but not right now. And of course I'm getting older, and edging daily, if not perceptibly, towards my own eventual death. And yeah, poor decisions I made five years ago, or yesterday, festering, moldering, might shake off freshly pushed up earth, hands forward, searching for me, but they won't find me 'till tomorrow at the very earliest.