Well. Quite a lot has been going on during the past several weeks. I have, in the space of just the past week, acquired 1) a job and 2) an apartment. This required a speedy trip back to New York--I landed at La Guardia about half an hour ago. Tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to pick up a rental truck, drive it to Spanish Harlem to retrieve Bob the Cat and my guitars from my friend's place, and then drive to Warwick. I'll spend the night at a motel there, and then, early on Tuesday, I'll drive to the storage unit. I'll load up all of the Stuff that's been sitting in it, and then head West for a five day cross country journey, the second one in less than a year.

I have answers, now, to many of those "What's Next?" questions I've been asking since I left Yorktown on May 25. I like those answers. Very much.

So, for the next five or six days, I'll be on the road once again, with a home at its end, along with a job and a bevy of fine new people.

It's a Whole New Thing!

I'm into it.

And also, at the moment, exhausted.

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No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastard will see them soon enough.

Loadout, surprisingly, went as planned. About three hours to empty the storage unit into the truck. It all fit. And I have way too much shit for where I'm going, so I will need to come up with a speedy and profitable way of divesting myself of said shit.

The driving went almost, but not quite, as planned, due to the fact that there was some disagreement between the laptop and the GPS unit as to which route I should take. The GPS wanted to send me along I-80, through Chicago, and the laptop said, "No, he wants to go south, and avoid Chicago, along I-76 and I-71," and the GPS replied, "Well, what the hell do you know, you non-specialized piece of Malaysian-built Dell sputum? I was born to navigate, bitch!"

Then I had to separate them. The laptop was right, of course, and it cost me about 40 miles to get back to where I needed to be, during which I flew along darkened Ohio country roads listening to sides one and two of Physical Graffiti and generally being a loon.

Tomorrow will see the first full day of driving. I predict crazy high mileage, loud music, and a cheeseburger.

It's been a long day. This morning, I was in my old hometown. I drove past my former house, which has had all of the things done to it that I could never manage to do because I was too drunk or depressed or both. I went by to see some innkeeper friends of mine, only to discover that one was away for the week, and the other had died of cancer in August, while I was on the road. I had heartrending conversations with my ex. I got mountain-rained on in Pennsylvania, the kind of fat, thick rain I remember from Virginia-Kentucky border country.

I'm in a motel again. On my way across the country, again. With my guitars, and the rest of my stuff, this time. And a whole New Thing awaiting me, in the West.

Crazy, baby.

Bedtime.

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I'm in Joplin, Missouri, after taking advantage of a time zone shift to put in 13 hours of driving.

And I'd really like to write more.

But, apparently, I can't stand up anymore.

Or type.

So that, it would seem, is that.

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But it is, apparently, only 897 miles from Joplin, MO to Gallup, NM, where I am now.

There were vicious rainstorms in Oklahoma. Tumbleweeds in Texas. And Led Zeppelin. Lots of Led Zeppelin.

Now me go sleep.

*mfrgl*

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Oh. Right.

Yes, I've arrived.

And I am so tired that I'm trembling.

Which makes it difficult to.

Um.

Think. That's it. The word I'm looking for.

More when I am conscious.

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