Or, more accurately, night one.
I'm writing because I need to write, and I don't have any pens here at this second, because it's late and everything took forever tonight. Raf sort of half showed up, didn't take all of his stuff, and left a bunch of junk for me to deal with. Big scattered apartment, most large pieces vacated, and piles here and there as I tried to sort it all out. Cut to now, in a friend's house, on a new sofa bed that's not very comfortable, with ChaCha, and sweat soaked clothes that I guess I have to sleep in - poor planning on my part. I guess I'll just sleep naked. On second thought, I don't know how good of an idea that is, seeing as this office has just been redone, and there's no coverings on the windows. But it's the second floor, so I'll probably be fine.
It's eerie and quiet here. I might have to turn on KEXP just to sleep, and I generally like it quiet when I sleep, not quiet quiet, but hum of a fan or fake ocean noises or dock/boat noises quiet. I just felt like I shouldn't let tonight pass without getting it all down, only now it feels like there's nothing to write about and the clickclack of my typing is loud enough to wake the dead. I am exhausted. I am never dating again. I am going to live in a room with no furniture that I own, because moving is awful and I don't want to have to go through this repeatedly for the rest of my existence. I am starting to believe that the less I have, the better off I am.
I have had amazing, amazing people show up for me through this whole process. People who have lives and kids and day jobs all up at my apartment at 11 o'clock at night, eating cold pizza, toasting to everything with sparkling cider and old wine glasses I forgot I had. It was amazing. I'm so stringless and free. This is what it must be like to be independently wealthy, but then I suppose you'd be tied to other things. I just want to write, and find things, and live things, and work a meaningful job, and leave a mark.
I am wondering if anyone is interested in going into NaNoWriMo this year, for some reason, I'm all jacked up about it. The busiest of busy have tried and succeeded. It's quantity, not quality, and I think it would be an amazing experience to go through on a group level. I started it one year and all this incredible stuff started to happen. It's not until November, so you would have some time, but - I don't know. I'm really looking forward to it, all rained in and searching furiously for words and stretching out conversations and dream sequences to fill my word quota for the day. Projects are great. The mix tapes have pushed me to a new place.
The apartment is empty. I couldn't fit everything I wanted to take. Natalie said, "Well Victoria, it's not like you didn't pack well, you just went from an apartment to a car." And it was all funny and perfect perfect, all late night in the driveway, all warm summer nighttime, and it really feels like something has begun. I didn't listen to all of the new mix cds, because I want them to be new when the road is new. Forty eight hours from now I'll be preparing to leave - it's funny, there's no sadness or remorse or anything, it's just time. I'm not crying or wistful. Things are just ending appropriately and beginning anew. I don't think I've ever been here before. I am really, really amazed at all of this, like I am in the middle of a science experiment. Watching from the inside of a petrie dish.
Christ I can't even spell. I'm so tired. What a whirlwind that's about to come - is coming - has already started? Yes, that's the one. Bon courage, right? Bon courage, for sure.
Did I mention that I want to go to Hollywood? Something about it just seems right.
Much, much more to follow -