Author's Note: While most of these accounts are drawn from my actual life, this is by no means a work of non-fiction. Fact is intermingled with falsehood, events are taken out of context, embellished, expanded upon or, in numerous cases, created out of whole cloth. I'm not saying my life isn't this pathetic, I'm just saying I made a lot of this stuff up.

And it really sucked, too, because all I wanted to do was get on the road, but there was always another thing I had to do before I could get out. First of all, just loading up all the odds and ends took forever. My apartment is on the second floor, so first you have to get everything down to where the truck is, and then you have to load it in, being careful to pack things tightly (I learned this on my move to Key West in 1992). Plus, I was still putting things in boxes, and that took a while.

After I finally had everything in the truck, I still had to clean the place. I am desperate to get my entire deposit back, so I couldn't just take off, even though the place was pretty clean already. I had to scrub the linoleum in the kitchen, bathroom and laundry room, vacuum the whole place, clean out the fireplace, clean the tub, sink and john, and a bunch of other stuff.

FUCK! I was so ready to go when I finally finished all the cleaning, but I was a mess and absolutely had to take a shower, and plus I was still hoping my landlord would show up (AS PREVIOUSLY ARRANGED BY ME AND AGREED TO BY HER, BY THE WAY), so I had the time anyway. After my shower, at exactly 3:14 pm (new cell phone!), I called my landlord and learned that, no, she hadn't quite left San Francisco yet, but she was hoping to in a couple of hours. I decided I couldn't wait around any longer and told her I'd call from Arcata with an address.

And so, at 3:30 pm, I got on the road. I figured I'd get into Arcata by about 11:00, which was a bummer because I was really hoping to watch the Kings game, but whatever, at least I was on the road. Everything went smoothly until I got just on the other side of the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, when I encounter bumper-to-bumper, five-MPH traffic. This lasted from San Rafael to just past Santa Rosa (maybe 30 miles), with only a few breaks where things were moving faster. Rush hour, you see (augmented by no fewer than three accidents). It soon became clear that there was no way I could make it to Arcata. For one, I was tired. For another, when I finally emerged from the traffic, I was still five hours from my future home.

In a way, though, at this point, that was a good thing. This gave me a perfect excuse to stop for the night, which I really wanted to do anyway and which I did in beautiful Ukiah. I got a sixer of local beer (Red Tail Ale), a Jack-In-The-Box Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger and some Curly Fries, and settled in to watch the basketball game, which I joined in progress in the middle of the second quarter. This was beautiful! I was sitting in my underwear, drinking good beer, eating fast-food, and watching an exciting televised sporting event. Oh and, later, smoking the rest of the crack that Nathaniel gave me. Can life get any sweeter?

The day started on a somewhat sour note when U-Haul let me know that, darn the luck, they *didn't* have a truck for me after all.

Yeah, that's right. No truck! My "confirmed reservation" was not a confirmed reservation at all. I mean, does this look like a confirmed reservation or not? Apparently, at U-Haul, "reservation" does not mean the same thing as you and I understand that term. Entreaties, threats and, finally, cutting remarks proved unpersuasive with the U-Haul customer service staff and, ultimately, I had to accept the fact that I had no truck. On this, my moving day.

Plan B was to call all the other truck rental places and beg them for a truck. Penske was happy to help me out. For $850. Fuck that. Ryder appreciated my predicament and let me know that, next time, I should probably consider Ryder, since they are the only truck rental company that will *guarantee* you the promised truck at the promised location on the promised day. Unfortunately, they were unable to help me today. Go figure, but the end of the month is their "busy time".

I contacted a few other companies who either couldn't help me or said, "yeah, one-way rental to Arcata? We can work that out. Let's see...rental charge...insurance...tax...we can hook you up for a million dollars. Credit card number?" So I was back to Penske. If you look at that .gif above, you'll see that the U-Haul was going to cost me $270, so that's a bit less than $850 but it's only money, right?

Oh, also, the U-Haul place is located ten blocks or so from my house. I was going to bike there (all of five minutes), pick up the truck, toss (not literally) the bike in the truck and kick it on back home. The Penske place, on the other hand, is located in East Oakland, about 15 miles away. That's a $40 cab ride, so you have to add that to the cost of the truck (though I did see Trask Street on the way to the truck place, so maybe deduct $5 from the cab fare because I enjoyed seeing that so much).

Irritating, all of this. I dashed to work to pick up my contacts, went over a few last-minute items with Karen, returned the rental car, and cabed it to the Penske store. Before I really had a chance to get used to driving the big truck, I was on the 580 heading back home. That was kind of an experience, especially when other trucks passed me, but still I managed to get back home without any major mishaps.

All right. FINALLY. Finally, it's moving time. And then it was still moving time. And then it was moving time again. And then it was take a break from moving time and enjoy a refreshing "malt beverage" followed by some Heinekens time. And then it was moving time again, and moving time, and moving time, and cleaning time, and cleaning time, and cutting up boxes time, and realizing that I'll never be able to get out of the Bay Area tonight time, and, finally, deciding to stay here on the air mattress tonight and try to get out of town reasonably early tomorrow time.

So I worked some more and then smoked some of the crack that Nathaniel brought me when he finally showed up. Nathaniel actually helped me out a tremendous amount because, in addition to giving me the crack, he took a ton of stuff off my hands, like old vacuum cleaners, a piece of furniture, some more electronic items and just a bunch of other stuff like boxes Peggy didn't take with her when she moved to DC. (One of which included one of Peggy's vibrators, which was very embarrassing when Nathaniel opened the box it was in and said, "what's this?") I gave him $40 as a thank-you and that was a fantastic bargain as far as I was concerned.

Then I went to bed. I decided to sleep in the former music room, which was the very room I slept in on my first night in the apartment back in 1999. Talk about bitter/sweet.

• Woke up early (8:32 am);
• got rental car;
• went to Sprint store to buy replacement phone ($108). Sprint provides, in my experience, very good mobile phone service. Their customer service, on the other hand, is an abomination. All I wanted was to buy a phone, right? I even researched it on the Internet before going to the store and so knew in advance exactly the phone I wanted to buy, and yet the transaction STILL took 45 minutes;
• went back home and loaded car with old computers, lots of used clothes for the "free box" at People's Park, my VCR and laserdisk collection to sell, and a bunch of other stuff;
• unloaded most of that stuff from the car when my local homeless guy Nathaniel came by and said he wanted it;
• went to pawn shop to sell 6-month old $350 very nice Sony VCR -- got $20 for it;
• went to work, did my "exit interview" (paperwork), cleaned my office, turned in my keys, tried (and failed) to format the hard drive on my computer;
• left work for what I thought was going to be the last time;
• sold my $2,500 collection of (mostly) fabulous movies on laserdisk ($125);
• loaded an unwanted amp and (not so nice) Martin guitar in the car and drove to the pawn shop ($50 for both, which I was very happy to receive);
• came home and fought with stupid U-Haul about my reservation for tomorrow morning (who knows if I'll have a truck or not -- NOT U-HAUL!!!);
• realized that I'll have to go in to campus tomorrow after all, to pick up my contact lenses that I ordered (and paid for);
• figured that, as long as I was going back anyway, I should probably stop by Boalt to say goodbye to Karen, and to apologize for leaving her with a ton of stuff that I didn't do, some of it WAY overdue (and people are mad);
• drank wine and packed.

So that's it. Tomorrow's moving day, assuming I get the truck. This may be my last entry for a few days. I'll let you know when I get settled in Arcata. I've already got my (lousy dial-up) Internet access setup in Humboldt, so that's all cool. You kids be good while I'm away. AND NO PARTIES!

But still, I was able to do nothing other than sit on the couch for the rest of the day. This is somewhat unfortunate given the many things I have left to do, but that's the way it goes.

After that, we headed over to the Oaks Club. Oh, before we went to the card room, we stopped at the bank where I withdrew $100. I don't have $100 to spare, so I intended to at least break even, if not make a few bucks, at the card room.

The cards were really fun! I love playing poker. It's quite exciting. Unfortunately, I lost each and every one of the hundred dollars I walked in the room with. The worst part was that I lost most of the dough because of an enormously stupid mistake. I also lost my cell phone, but I think that was at the brewery. So that's quite an expensive evening, but whatever. I enjoyed the cards.

We stayed at the card room for quite a while (my friend was doing okay), but finally left and went to the Safeway. We bought a couple of steaks and tried to buy a bottle of wine, but we were about six minutes after Safeway's last call, so it was no dice on the cabernet.

We enjoyed our steaks and I had a few too many glasses of bourbon. I turned in around 4:00, I would guess.

An hour or so after I got home, I received a phone call from a friend of mine who lives in LA. He was driving up the coast, hoping to stay in Monterey, but he was too cheap to pay the legitimate hotel charge, so he wanted to stay with me. He's a good guy and a close friend of mine, and I was happy to receive his call.

He showed up an hour and a half later and we spent the rest of the night drinking too much and watching selected scenes from The Godfather.

Oh, and also playing some FUCKING POKER!!!! My pal was kind enough to stake me ($60!), and we went to the Oaks Club, a card room near me. It was pretty fun. I did make a few embarrassing mistakes and ultimately lost the entire amount. Good times, though.

Everything went smoothly with landlordo. She's going to meet me here next Thursday afternoon after I've loaded all my worldly goods on the truck and, provided everything is cleaned up and fixed the way I say it will be, she's going to give me a check right then and there. Perfect. That deposit is a large part of my stake.

Unless I've miscalculated, I should drive away from here with about $300 in savings (yeah, I know), one paycheck ($2,736.89), and the $1,500 deposit. That's...uh...$4,536.89 American. Not too shabby! Of course, between the truck rental, the hotel in Arcata, move-out and move-in expenses, the deposit and rent on the new apartment, and ordinary bills, you have to deduct about two grand. But still, I should be able to live on that for two months at least. That would be really sweet because, if you count this month (which you really should), that would make three months off. What I'm going to try to do is get a really, really cheap apartment, and also try to live as cheaply as I possibly can, and then see how much income I just absolutely have to have in order to survive. And THEN, I'll try to figure out a way to make that amount of money by only working three days a week.

So tonight begins my final week living here at 4504 West Street. If I haven't mentioned how much I like this apartment, I've been remiss. Because I really, really like it, and I have (at best) mixed feelings about moving out of here. But onward and upward, right? So here's to the final week in this fabulous apartment, and here's, also, to what's to come.

And if what's to come does not at least look like it's going to be better than this within, let's say, the next four months, please email me your suggestions for an "artistic" death. I just keep coming back to the idea of jumping (or somehow falling) from a great distance. Those moments of free-fall must be exhilarating. But I also want to incorporate some excellent aesthetic touch. Like jumping into the center of a bull's-eye, or landing on a mattress and then having an anvil fall on my head. Something like that.

Well, let's just see how this Arcata thing goes. But if a thought occurs to you, maybe jot it down. You never know.

My first task was to disassemble the music room. I don't know if you know it or not, but I have a fairly large amount of music-related equipment. There's an electronic piano (a nice one), a mixer, a recorder and a few other things. One of the reasons I love this apartment so much is that all this stuff fit perfectly into a nice little room near the front of the house. One of the windows in the room looks out toward the west, and you can see the Bay and the hills of Marin beyond that. It is especially pleasant in the late afternoon, when the orange and purple light floods the room. It's really quite beautiful, though I can't say I was inspired to create any masterpieces or anything. I was sorry to be packing it all up though.

That took a really long time, as it turns out (packing up the music room). One thing I've learned in all my moves is that, if you plan things out when you pack everything up, it's way easier when you have to unpack things. I also have to anticipate the possibility I'll have to store things once I get up there. So, yeah, it took me about three hours to pack (and then clean) the music room, but that's done. After that I cleaned a bit more and then chilled for the rest of the evening.

After the doc, I went to work. I jammed on some financial work in the morning and then was taken out to a very nice lunch (Berkeley Thai House) by two co-workers whom I actually like. Rita and Matilda were so nice to me at the lunch, saying all kinds of supportive things, which I very much appreciated.

Odd as it may sound, I went back to work after lunch. I trained Karen in the accounting procedures from 1:30 until 4:00, and then -- get this -- I did some MORE work. I didn't get out of the office until AFTER 5:30, so this was a very productive day at work. I was hoping that this would be my last day at work, but, alas, I couldn't finish everything I have left, so I'm going to have to go in one more day. Probably I'll do that next week.

On the way home, I stopped off at Andronico's and bought two more bottles of Forest Glen cabernet, a glass of which I'm enjoying as I type this. I'll just chill for the rest of today but, starting tomorrow? I will be a packing maniac.

Just to mix things up, I decided to drink a bit tonight, so I very much enjoyed a bottle of Forest Glen cabernet, which was very delicious. At 11:12 pm, I turned in for the night.

We had lunch at a very tasty yuppie restaurant called Ginger Island (I had grilled salmon and a glass of cabernet -- Patricia paid!). The baby was really good the whole time, which was excellent because I hate crying babies. I had to watch the kid for about ten minutes while Patricia was in the ladies' room, which was scary but also fun, because cute women came up to coo over the baby, which I pretended was mine. Patricia came back in the middle of all this, saw what was going on, and played along (she's cool that way). So that thing about a baby being a chick magnet turns out to be true, but there's really no way to work it to your advantage. I mean, what are you going to say? "Yeah, my wife and I have an understanding, so if you want to go have sex somewhere, that's no problem from my end." That would never work.

I got home from the outing at 4:00 pm, whereupon I decided that I need to get my ass in gear. I planned to (1) spend the rest of the day packing things here at the homestead, (2) NOT drink anything, (3) eat a light meal, and (4) get to sleep early so I could get up early on Saturday and go to work. That's right, go to work. I've got about six or eight hours of work left that I really have to do, so if I can just finally finish that stuff up, I can devote my full energies to getting ready for the move.

Instead, I (1) didn't pack a goddamn thing, (2) quaffed seven beers, (3) had 10 chicken wings and four slices of pizza for dinner, and (4) went to sleep at 3:00 am. So that's not so good.

The movie was okay, but nothing to get too excited about. The FX are awesome, and the alien landscapes are really cool looking. But the writing is absolutely horrible. The script is as hokey as anything I've ever seen, full of cliché lines and just plain insipid bits of dialogue. Also, I have to say, Lucas, for all his technical mastery, is really not a very good director as far as getting good performances out of his cast. There are some talented actors in the film, but they all seem like they're just line reading. There's virtually no humor in it, either. A Harrison Ford-like character is very noticeably absent. I have to say, though, that Natalie Portman, stiff though she may be, is rather attractive. In the climactic scene, she has the bottom half of her shirt ripped off by a (stupid looking) alien, so she sports a Brittany-like midriff for the last thirty minutes or so, which is nice.

After the movie, the others split (one of the guys was getting married the next day), but Karl and I went to The Fifth Amendment for a couple of cold ones. It was nice chatting with the Karlmeister. He's a good guy. So we had some beers, complained about how we don't have girlfriends, and then called it a night.

So, yeah, I went to work and finally Karen and I had our training session. That all went fine, and I must say I'm being a remarkably good sport about all of this with Karen. Ok, in this forum I harsh on her a bit (because, as you've all seen, she deserves it), but in our interpersonal relationship, I'm one hell of a nice guy. So we did the training though only a part of it, because it took way longer that I thought it would, and now I have to come in again tomorrow(!) to finish up.

I finally got out of there at 3:30, at which time I proceeded directly to the gym. Those of you who may have thought my hiatus last week signaled an end to my famous workout regime may want to rethink your positions, because it could not be more back on. I was able to get through my standard rigorous cardio routine no problem, just as happened yesterday with the resistance training. I am therefore happy to report that the fitness program continues apace. After the workout, I walked home (3 mi), augmenting my workout.

When I got home, I paid a neighborhood guy to buy me a sixer of beer -- a guy named Nathaniel. I met him about a year ago when I used to go running a lot in the neighborhood. He was always hanging out somewhere along the route, and so he came to recognize me. He always seemed friendly enough, but then he disappeared and I didn't see him again for months and months. He reappeared about six weeks ago (turns out he was in jail) and we exchanged pleasantries on a couple of occasions. Then he hit me up for money. Previously, I thought he was just being nice to me because I am so cool, but after that act I figured it out: he just likes me for my money. Still, as I say, he's always been an amiable chap, so I was inclined to help him out, which, on that occasion, I did.

But after that, he would ask for dough every time he saw me, which was not infrequent, because he was always about. Sometimes I gave him a couple of bucks, sometimes I didn't. Then I did something that, arguably, I shouldn't have: I told him where I live. After that, of course, he started coming to the house pretty much every day to ask for money. And I'd like to say publicly right here and now that I could not feel more ashamed of myself that this situation reminded me of the time I fed a stray cat on my porch in Key West. Really, I feel just horrible about thinking that, but that's what this reminded me of.

I've lately been trying to break him of this habit, so the last four times he's come around, I haven't given him a penny. It's a little awkward. We stand around for a few minutes and chat about this and then, and then he says, "say, man, can you help me out?", to which I respond, "yeah, not tonight Nathaniel, sorry man". And then he leaves, and everything is cool until the next night, when he stops by again.

But now that I'm moving out of here, I don't mind this so much. I mean, he's not really that bad of a guy. Yeah, he's a low-level hustler, but why should I care? He's a nice enough guy to me (though in the same sort of way that a stripper comes on to you), so I'm happy to help him out once in a while.

As is usually the case, he came by not too long after I got home tonight, and he wanted to know if I could help him out. I did have some cash on me, as it turned out, but that was for another purpose. I had gotten $20 out of the automatic ATM teller machine on my way home for the express purpose of buying some beer at Micro's Market. (Normally in these situations, I go straight to Micro's before going into my house. But today my neighbors were out in front of the building when I walked by, and they wanted to check out my apartment (they are thinking about moving in after I go). So I showed them the place and then hung out and chatted with them for a while. They're both, by a strange coincidence, from Arcata (they went to Humboldt State!!!), so I had many questions for them (and we'll be getting together this weekend to chat some more)).

ANYWAY (man I'm getting sidetracked tonight), Nathaniel shows up and, as I say, it has been a while since I've given him any money, and I'm in a generous mood and all because of chatting with the neighbors. But I don't have any severable cash. I only have the $20 bill, which I need some of to buy beer...but then three thoughts occurs to me: (1) I don't particularly like going to Micro's and back, because of the (very occasional, sure) racial taunts I must endure; (2) I'd like to give the Nathaniel mon some cash, but I do have this beer to buy; and (3) I can ask Nathaniel if he's willing to go to Micro's, buy me a sixer and bring it back, in exchange for which he can keep the change. And so I asked him if he'd be willing to go down to Micro's, buy me a sixer, bring it back, and keep the change.

He was quite willing to do this, as it turned out, and why wouldn't he be? He buys me an (anticipated) $8.00 six-pack with my money, and pockets a cool $12 on the exchange. I could only hope to put together that kind of work next month in Arcata. So off he goes (and comes back!), dutifully carrying out my instructions. At first, I'm really happy about this transaction. I mean, I get my beer without any race-baiting incidents, and Nathaniel gets a little cash for crack or whatever. I even tossed him a beer -- MGD 16oz, BTW. That must be his favorite brand, because that's what he bought me. (Here's what I asked him to buy me: "Lagunitas IPA or Sierra Nevada or Full Sail or any of those 'micro-brews' on the right-hand side of the cooler. Or whatever you think is good.") But a tiny part of me feels guilty, because I just don't think an ofay mothafucka like myself should be paying a black man to go down to the corner store and buy him beer. I mean, does that seem right to you?

Still, I'm enjoying my five beers. Since Webvan shut down, this is the first time anyone's brought alcohol to my door for an outrageous mark-up. Aiight. I'll check y'alls laterz.

Well, Steven was late getting there, so, instead of coffee at 10:00, we had lunch at 12:30. This was very nice indeed. As I say, I always liked Steven. He was the one I worked with for the first year or so at the Center. Richard was dealing with a child custody issue and was almost never around the first year. Steven is very chill in his management style, mostly because he really didn't want to be bothered with the Center, which was fine with me. And, as long as he didn't have to deal with too much and I didn't get him in any trouble, he was very happy to let me run things however I saw fit. It was a great arrangement for both of us, and, not surprisingly, we got along great. I very much enjoyed having this farewell lunch with him.

After lunch, I waited an hour or so for the scheduled training session but, oh darn it, something came up and Karen had to reschedule for tomorrow. These things happen. I took care of a few minor tasks, and then got out of Dodge.

For the first time in more than a week, I went to the gym. Don't get the idea I was slacking off, because that's not the case. This past week, I was taking a "break" from working out, as suggested by a daily email I received a few weeks ago from MuscleMaster.com. But now I'm back on it, and I'm happy to say that I didn't lose any ground during the week of indolence.

Then I came home and had a nice chat with my cute downstairs neighbor Sarah, who is, it coincidentally turns out, also moving out of the building. She and Theresa (also cute but not as much so) are moving to a place in Rockridge. It's a bit smaller, but it has a nice little yard and, Sarah informed me, "a claw-foot tub". Of course, immediately after she said this, I started thinking about taking a bath with her, which caused me to make a few verbal mistakes at the time, but I recovered nicely. She's mostly moving out because of the neighborhood, which I can understand. For me, the apartment is so nice that it's more than worth the minor inconveniences of the neighborhood, but the girls were frequently scared here, Sarah said.

After that, I drank a bottle of wine and went to sleep.

As befits someone in a holding pattern, I did nothing today.

Oh, wait, except for SURVIVE A MAJOR EARTHQUAKE!!!!! That's right, there was a 5.2 earthquake centered below Gilroy, which is just under 80 miles south of Oakland. There were a number of amazing things about this.

1. Earthquakes travel really, really fast. If the USGS web site and the clock in my cellular phone are both accurate, I felt the quake about seven seconds after it happened.
2. The USGS web site is fucking great!!!! As soon as the quake stopped, I ran to the computer to check out if it really was a quake. Really, really detailed information was posted at the above-reference web site (which I found via this Google search: "recent earthquake activity") less than sixty seconds after the event. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a wonderful age in which we live.
3. Earthquakes are awesome (as long as you don't die because of them or get seriously injured). I've felt a few tremors since I moved out here. I now understand that they were minor tremors. And, to be honest, this one tonight was not really a "major" earthquake at all. There were zero injuries, almost no property damage (except for *one* house, which burned down. That guy must be pissed), and, surprisingly, no looting. But it was still by far the biggest one I've ever experienced. The house shook for more than five seconds, and it was creaking and groaning like a madman, like a giant was standing at one end of the building, shaking it. Sometimes the house shakes when a heavy truck or something drives by, but there is no mistaking an earthquake. They feel so "deep", if that makes any sense.

In my characteristically heroic fashion, I ran rapidly back and forth between my coffee table and the living room door during the event, which was obviously the right thing to do, because I'm still here. It was a difficult time in the Clash homestead, folks, but, thanks to God Almighty's saving grace, I survived.

After the quake, I emailed some friends and then went to sleep.

So not that great of a day.

Anyway, I went to work today and had an absolute blast. I processed some invoices and did a bunch of other horrible things for about six hours, and then I got out. I stopped by the Andronico's on Telegraph and picked up a nice NY strip steak and a bottle of red, so I'm looking forward to a good (if unhealthy (except for the wine)) meal tonight.

I'm also going to watch a movie. I've decided to jettison the laserdiscs and the LD player. New movies aren't released on laserdisc anymore, and I do have the DVD player and all. I don't really care about junking the player, but I've got a lot of really good movies on laserdisc that I'm unlikely to be buying on DVD anytime soon. So, before I lose the opportunity, I'm goings to watch as many of them as possible in the two weeks or so I have left. It's a non-stop movie FESTIVAL at Clash Acres this weekend! Stop by if you're in the neighborhood. (Not really.)

So, yeah, today I hung out in the crib. I packed stuff, did some laundry, and like that.

I putzed around most of the morning, but did some decent work in the afternoon. You'd think I'd be more industrious about getting my remaining projects done. After all, once those things are completed, I will be basically done with my job. But no, I'm still screwing around a good deal of the time I'm there. I'm going to kick it at the crib tomorrow and try to get focused, but then I'm going into the office on Thursday and Friday and FINISHING THESE PROJECTS.

My moving boxes arrived today (and they came in boxes labled, by the warehouse guys, "LT" in magic marker!), which event I experienced with various emotions. First, I was angry. I was angry that I had to pay some $300 for FUCKING EMPTY BOXES!!!!!! Three hundred dollars, and this is the first time I've ever paid so much as one penny for moving boxes. And I've moved many times in my life. Let's see...ah...from the time I first moved out of my parent's house...that's...carry the one...eleven times just on my own. And, if you count the times I moved when I was a kid, the total is twenty-four. That's a lot of moves. In all that time, I've never once paid for boxes. Until now. I'm so ashamed.

I also felt kind of bummed when the boxes showed up. I knew for sure I was moving out of this apartment (and, most likely, the Bay Area) when I gave notice at work, but I guess I didn't totally face it emotionally. Well, now I have. The boxes are here. I'm moving out. I'm totally going to miss this apartment, and I'm also going to miss the Bay Area which, excepting the absurd cost of living and the population density, is by far the best place I've ever lived.

I'm also excited, though. I love moving. I really do, and this one is the most exciting of all the moves heretofore because, despite my earlier definite statement (which I now retract), I can't say I know for sure where I'm moving to. The odds-on favorite is still Humboldt, but there are some other possibilities. Somewhere, though; I'm moving *somewhere*. That's always fun.

I should say that this column will pick up again soon. There really hasn't been much to report over the last few days (except for one incident that I'd rather not discuss), so don't think I'm holding out on you. I could, I suppose, write in more detail about how I sat on the couch, or how I felt like eating but didn't feel like cooking (a dilemma!), but I know you don't want to hear about that.

I was so overwhelmed by Clash Day, that I couldn't do anything else, and therefore I have nothing to write about.