Can't believe i'm moving again.

My friend and soon-to-be-exhousemate, Rebecca says when she moves into a place, she pictures it empty, pictures herself moving out already.

Seems a bit bleak, always ready to move on...

I'm packing music and books into boxes. I'm taking my garden tools, my pots and pans, my massage table, my paints and my new kiln.

I'm talking with a friend whose soon-to-be exwife is threatening him with dire consequences for changing... The lives of their two girls hanging precariously in the gulf between them.

Ani is singing Buildings and Bridges: 'we are made to bleed and scab and heal and bleed again, and turn every scar into a joke. We are made to fight and fuck and fight again, and sit around and laugh until we choke.'

I love that woman, she pulls no punches, sings it raw.

Life changes, love changes, people change, they grow, they make choices, they break free, break promises, break down, die... Hardly ever stop to enjoy where they are.

Here I am, packing my stuff again.

Keep this, let go of that...

Ani, sing it girl, sing me Callous:

'You can't will yourself happy,
you can't will your cunt wet.
You can't keep standing at the station,
pretending your being met.
you can't wear a sign that says 'yours'
when that ain't what you get.'

So it goes.

Maybe if I keep on meeting myself at the station, I'll eventually just go home with myself?

Sounds pretty good tonight... I kinda just want to curl up amidst my boxes, in my big ol' bed, just me and a book.

But I gotta go give some 'ssage.

Yeeps. I'd better quit my maundering and go!