There… done and done.

just finished giving newt his teefie-brushies.

He got so much loving, he fell into the drool-snore level of purr-dom… he didn’t mind at all that I was giving his dental hygiene. what a good boy!

Now my teef are brushied too… and I’m ready to tuck in… I have the champa burning, lights down low, and a happy kitty… I think I’ll tell him a bedtime story.

I’m looking to pick up a mountain bike or hybrid for tooling around sometime soon… maybe even as part of my commute to work, depending on weather. a “sitting-up” bike for city and beach traffic.

Stuff I have to make a point of getting –

  • Rack over the rear wheel for spare clothes / books / etc
  • basic tool kit and tire pump
  • *fenders*… I don’t want a skunk strip up my back if it starts to rain…
  • White headlight, red rear reflector, and a red tail light.

Where I live, a bike is legally defined as a vehicle. Same rights to the roadway and must obey the same traffic laws as operators of other vehicles, including stopping for stop signs and traffic lights, riding with the flow of traffic, using lights at night, and yielding right-of-way when entering a roadway.

I may not get the apartment next door to my bro…. it needs a *lot* of work, and I don’t know if the landlord is interested in getting all that needs doing taken care of by the time I’m ready to move in.

I have a few new alternate places lined up… going to give one a look-see tomorrow morning at 9… all new kitchen/bath/tile/doors/appliances, and about $50 more a month than the one near the bro. At this rate, I’m beginning to suspect that one of the alternates is where I’ll end up. Brother rode around his neighborhood, and collected a few excellent phone numbers of places near him… I’ll call them again tomorrow during normal business hours. One sounds especially good.

Argh! why is my lj in read only mode, *now*? (9pm)

Today, I make a point of packing at least one box a day. two, or more if possible. I’d like to have everything ready to roll comfortably by a week from Saturday.

First thing to attack – my books.

Also, it’s time to decide if some of those things I haven’t used in the year since I moved here get purged, or retained. I’m a terrible pack-rat. I think that the Atari ST will be trashed… I have an emulator for the PC now… and I really haven’t booted the machine since it arrived.

The reel to reel recorder can go to goodwill, along with many of the clothes I’ve not made use of.

I’m keeping the Godzilla slippers.

I’m keeping my ties, in case of a court date, funeral or a wedding. (Unless the wedding is very lax, I won’t wear my Godzilla slippies there)

Old stereo… I’ll probably toss, but will keep a few of the albums. (real albums… even if I don’t have a turntable… the nostalgia is great.)

Free-flow thought…re:walkies to the mall of the dead

Who has left this golden day,
I don’t know, but I have found it…

Beautiful morning, remember me?
Who sat here once in days of spring…not all too long ago
Flowers were everywhere here… even in the doorway…
These ruins… the Parthenons of Pompano
weeds and cans and broken bricks… and I am a child again,
across the blowing fields
On this spot three years ago in pouring rain I leapt a puddle to help a crying baby… shortly his mother retrieved him and thanked me.
strange soft day… I think now of the time when I’ll be somewhere else, and the land will still be here.

I look up and see trails in the sky , a silver plane so silent… the airships will remain here, too. I’ll miss the blimps.

Leaves blow.

Old telephone pole covered in staples…there must be thousands.
Only on a day like today do I remember to notice such obscure treats.

Walking, wandering like a breath of air… floating like a cloud.
So many old places here.

Heavens have rolled by
many seasons
oceans of pavement
long gray lines of time…
since I last really looked at this spot.

they were supposed to tear down the mall years ago
no one knows why they never did.
look at the windows
like eyes frozen half closed, in the moment before sleep.

look at the drain pipe hanging half off

look at me standing here looking at it and talking to myself.
remember blowing soap bubbles in ’96… waiting for a ride.
cross-legged and smiling

in the parking lot
unspoken words
like cheap toys
fall from my lips

footprints echo from the past,
skies stare out from my shielded eyes
daytime wear on the heels of my shoes

I am here now,
wandering in and out of myself

my mind makes invisible phone calls to parties who don’t need to answer.
it’s enough that I reach to them.

life seems to be in slow motion
and the laughter sounds like angels

shadows move before I can look at them
and reaching out of the dark
behind my back
barely touching…
ghosts of moments gone and done.

barely just alive
like tingled vertebrae
scamper through the rattled junk

I may not return to this place again
even if I do… it won’t seem the same.