Vacating premises with a day's notice, there is no better feeling than to purposefully get yourself legally removed from a place you hate. There are now balconies all over without string lights. The bandanas and carpet will be gone shortly. Cleaned the surface of counters and tables so the bottom of my things, pre-packed, won't get all messy or sticky. A small box full of important documents and reminders of important documents. An orange folder full of other important documents. But to who? Me? No. Something in me compels me to keep some things. Once it all blows over again I will burn or otherwise dispose of these miscellaneous papers. Must have meant something at one point. Perhaps I am a future-reader and these will be of ultimate importance sometime near or far, future. Blank walls. I slept in until 2:30 pm today. Crazy college kid. God knows when I fell asleep. I was watching tv shows on my lap top, plugged into my stereo in the living room. Eating perishable things until my stomach expands beyond my waistline. Glass after glass of milk. Still fresh but not for long. A single day determines the life of a fly. Somehow gets trapped in this 80 degree apartment. (10-20 degrees cooler than the broiling outside air).
Contemplate what it means to leave this place. This place I spent so much time thinking. For 9 months I tried to wrap my mind around the ideal in everyone's heads. I tried to understand what it meant to be a sun devil and feel empty handed today. Because I am not of vacant mind. I don't fold and stoop to their level and therefore I am isolated and torn apart. In limbo. Another transitional period. No doubt this time last year was equally confusing. When I made the decision to swap Portland with Arizona, the devil knows. I just remember a black dress helped me carry things and cried with me on the stairway before we drove off. Will she cry when I move my things out today and tomorrow? No. Days prior a student counselor came up to ask me if I had thoughts of suicide. What! But I was so happy. My only confusion is that I understood it was another transition. That I have grown. I could pour out the contents that built up over the last year... Also leaving that black dress behind. The bare walls in my apartment now hurts a lot less than in my dorm. (Their dorm especially. Featured in brochures. Mother.) A big hug and a little kiss and I'm off again. But a big fuck-you to AZ. Good riddance.
* * * *
The moon makes things lighter on earth. A few inches off of the ground here and there. Just hang out, smoke and talk. Good enough for me. It is suspended, naked, above the horizon. Beyond comprehension in its nakedness. No single person has ever received so much instantaneous attention. (Everyone with their lawn chairs looking up to space. Into space. Wondering if anyone is looking back. Anything.) I dream up quotes about nudity of the human body. I wonder where the hype comes from and why anyone is so afraid of their own anatomy on another body. Wonder why there is any fear at all. It is a different arrangement certainly. But nothing to be ashamed of. Even if the person gets deformed or fat entirely on their own accord, their own decision, there is nothing solid to define them as ugly. Ridiculous labels we place on each other. (I'm moving all my shit. Piles of it laying around. I have to organize based on what I will take to Los Angeles and what I will send back to Washington this very instant.) 15/16 full moon. Give me a sound complaint, I dare you. I'm just sitting in my apartment alone. Blasting. Nothing to be ashamed of or sketch out about. Yours truly. Feel the importance of clocking in miles and miles of open road. The itchy feet and the English curiosity towards my inspirations of becoming an American 1940's road rebel. In the sense of Kerouac obviously. The madness and the Buddhism are endearing. When combined, creativity blossoms. Play any music. Open. I am opening my mind. You will feel uncomfortable at one moment or the next if I shuffle all of my music. (Take your time bro). I am not doing anything much.
A few hours later, as expected. We own the night but there is no night if there are no participants. Welcome to suspension. Between two rock faces over a raging river, a good drop below, a valley gorge. All bridges I burned off in resin bowl hits. Passed among friends in a quiet and stupid haze. Some whimsical reasoning behind staying awake and choking back the tears that precede sleeping or dozing on park benches or in hotel lobbies. One hand in pants, one hand one bottle. Little regard for outside appearance. (Picking apart stems to find remaining green herbs. Just like the parents taught against all those years in some foreign land.) Years back when you matched your shoe laces with your hat. Years back when you owned a blow dryer and smoked cigarettes like a fiend. Fiend for that rush and hope it to be as strong and solid as the first one. All those years ago. Still searching. Searching through stars and space. The constellations passing by as the lucky ones enjoy b.j.'s in the back of fancy cars. Something classic and with shining rims.
