old things

It feels good to get rid of old things. I'd been driving around with a PC and a dozen lit mags in the trunk of my car for almost three years. Also gone now are tons of old clothes, like fleece footed PJs an ex's mom gave me and winter scarves I never wore and HK purses and bags (not that I don't like HK anymore, whoa who whoa, I definitely am still in love, just look at my bathroom for crying out loud), and jeans I am just too fat for now. In figuring out how I'll move back home, I've been tempted to sell or give away most of my things and fill two suitcases with the things I really want to keep. One of them would be this guy, of course:

Last night in a dream my apartment was on fire so I grabbed him and ran out. I wish that was the only thing I had to pack, but I'm bringing back so much more.

I don't think you have them, too.

I can't say for sure why I've gone back to almost normal within the past week. These days I don't know what comes from what, but I won't spend too much time thinking about this one. All I know is things are rolling right off me when before they clung to me like barnacles. Standing around at work listening to the lyrics in Littlest Things I was fine, I went back to reconfiguring the whole room after a second. But in my latest dream, you were in my brothers' bedroom in our old house across from the island, lying in bed with the covers pulled over your head as usual. I sneaked in and sat next to you and told you I was moving back to California and you said that you didn't care, that we weren't even friends. I cried retelling it to Meg, but it was nothing like weeks before when I found the little things I wasn't looking for. Someone asked me to look forward to something better, and I think my whole problem while living here has been that I could never see anything better. It always seemed that even as I was scraping the bottom of the barrel, this was as good as it was going to get. I know that when I'm home I'll be better, and maybe that'll mean less sad poems and more poems about dolphins that talk or other things that aren't supposed to happen, like Steve said.

my favorite right now. "Bag of Hammers" by Thao and the Get Down, Stay Down

the valleys, they keep growing.

Stephen Dobyns, you're my only hope.