News » I'm moving out.

I'm moving out.

Frantic days of changing situations.  Quitting jobs and relations. Cutting off clients, dispensing my belongings to friends and strangers.  Suppressing nostalgia in the sentimental scrubbing of the kitchen sink.  Removing the plethora of marks beneath the front doorknob, where so many times (hundreds, thousands?) I've pushed it closed with the tire of my bike—a perfect probability curve, eh Soof?

Because I want to.  That's all... I'm leaving this place, this time, this carpet and its mysterious soft spots, these smoke-stained walls, these hours at the mini grill, the Caribou, in the company of thieves.  Funny... that coffeeshop is finally improving, just as I'm climbing into the outshoot, after three loyal years of bad lighting and worse lattés.  But I'll miss the two middleaged ladies who used to run the place with such little care, always wondering if they were lesbians or just long-time friends living out some old dream, nearly forgotten... entirely, soon enough.  And how many days of mediocre sales before the new young owners' enthusiasm begins to wane.  Or maybe their filtered water and "all French-press coffee" is just what the 900-block needs to get back on it's feet.  Maybe they'll start inviting musicians on Friday nights, and the hipsters will wander down from the Project Lodge to check things out.  Maybe they'll put art on the walls, local artists' of course, and they'll replace the beat-up gloss-topped tables with brushed steel, and (god forbid) start handing out passwords for the WiFi with each purchase.

Slowly but surely, slowly but surely, things are dissapearing.  Motorcycle?  Gone.  Coffee table?  Bookshelf?  Books? Gone.  Stools?  Gone.  Piano?  ...I'm putting that one off.  "I'll move it tomorrow," again.  Seriously though, tomorrow, I think... it's just so comfortable there, against the north wall of the living room.  And where will I put the speakers?  And what will I read tonight, before I go to sleep (for the last time?) on my dirty sheets?  The Old Testament.