Moving Day

I'm sitting here waiting for my beau to come over and move all my shit for me. It's not going to fun, but it needs to be done. My friend is being nice enough to let me store my stuff in her extra room for the month. It's not a lot of stuff, but it's enough. In a few days, I'm going to be a nomad and homeless for one night. I'm getting used to this kinda thing. I just want the next week to be over already. I want to move and begin my one month residency in the high rise which I've decided to use as therapy. It'll be so nice to be alone and not have to come home to a mess or kitchen counter sex, etc. I'll wake up every morning and admire my view. I'll go swimming whenever I want. It'll be my fortress of solitude for the month. I'll watch movies and read and write and everyone will leave me alone. And I'll even learn how to work the espresso machine in the place. I wish I could throw a party, but since it's not technically my place, I can't. And I can't really have people over. I'm still worried about all that white carpet in the place. Don't want to spill anything on it. In the meantime, I have to move my stuff into my friend's place, then move the rest of my stuff into the new place, hope my mail forwards on time, settle utilities with the roommates, and figure out where to leave my car. Fun times. But this time next week I'll be in my new pad recovering from Lolla and of course trying to figure out where I'll move next.

Saturday night I went to a party at my friend's new place. He has the biggest closet I've ever seen. I asked if I could live in his closet and he said he'd consider it. Only thing is it attaches to another room so that might be awkward if he gets a roommate. But, hell, I'd live in a closet. Why not? I went to Wicker Park fest for a little on Saturday and ran into a few people I hadn't seen in a while, so it was all good. I know in my last post I seemed sorta directionless, but I'm not going to give up on the journalism or finding what I want to do. I really wish I could take off for a couple of months and go somewhere and just write. Like get a cabin in the woods, get up every day and write without the distractions of everyday life. I know people who take off and leave the country for couple of months, get some perspective, then come back. I wish I could do that, too. Maybe someday. I just want to travel a lot. The thing is, I don't hate Chicago, but I hate just being here for long spells. If I could get out and travel, then I wouldn't burn out so fast. I could probably stay in Chicago forever if I got to travel a lot more.

Anyway, I just hope I can get through this week of moving, settling in, going to Lolla, trying to pitch ideas and wrapping up all those loose ends.