Lock and Load, Saddle Up, Etc.

I'm getting ready to go to the house. The intent this morning was to go rent a pickup truck or van and move over those few remaining things from the house into storage. But when I woke up I kicked myself. Why spend the money for the rental, much less the time to go get the van and take it back? I can get this stuff in my big truck, if I'll stop being lazy long enough to just shove it in there. Sure, it'll be more trouble, but it'll be a whole hell of a lot cheaper.

I'm feeling rather positive about things today. I had it kind of rough coming home on Friday. I felt sorry for myself, heading home to sleep on an exit or a truckstop on Friday night, and then sleeping on the couch at Mama's on Saturday. Boo hoo. Whine whine. What's become of my life? Etcetera. As much as I've protested otherwise, I've realized that I've been wallowing in this shit. Shut the fuck up and move on already.

This is the last transitional week. I have a load of things that need to be put into storage. Once I finally get that stuff moved over, that'll be it. Mama even said “that'll be the last time we go to the house, won't it?” Yes. It will. I need to get past this. And I now understand that once I do it's a whole new ballgame. It's hard to make any progress when you feet are on opposite banks of a stream, ya know? I'm looking forward to making that step.

I unloaded on a friend Friday about all my on-the-way-home angst and regret. That was unfair. The poor soul had written to wish me a belated birthday, and what she got in return was a treatise about how much my life sucked. It'll surprise me if she ever writes me again. So I apologize to her, and to everyone who has had to deal with my whining and crying of late. Believe it or not, unloading all that stuff on my friend Friday made me finally realize that I'm being self-indulgent here.

So today I'll get the last of that stuff into storage. Mark and I are supposed to try to get the Thunderbird running and moved over into its new berth today. I suppose from there, I'll be getting ready to hit the road again. I feel pretty good about that. My last two paychecks have been pitiful (I think back insurance payments have been eating me alive), but the next one should be pretty good. That'll make a big difference in my outlook on things, I'm sure. That's my biggest gripe. I want to move on, and feel like I can't.

Some of you may have noticed that my web sites are down (well, except for the Malleus, which is on its own host). My checking account was in the red for a couple of weeks and my host didn't get paid. Even though I'm in the black again and have updated my information, it doesn't looke like they're going to reinstate it any time soon. Fine with me. I hated their services anyway. My e-mail was virtually useless. I'll probably leave the web sites down for a couple of weeks until I can go back to a dedicated server.

Some of you have no doubt noticed that my cellphone is still turned off. Sorry about that. I'd planned to get it turned back on this weekend, but drew $300 less than I expected come payday. I'll get it this weekend. Promise.

In closing, I want to thank everyone for their support. I fully realize that I've driven off some friends with my whining. Sorry about that. I'll wave a fond farewell, figuring that if I proved to be an unbearable weight, you weren't much of a friend anyway. A friend who avoids you is really just an enemy that doesn't hate you. But I still regret it. I'm saddened that in some cases it came to that because I wasn't strong enough to shut the fuck up and move on. All I can say is “sorry,” and thanks for all the good conversation. However snarky that may sound given what I just wrote, I mean it.

I intend to write less here. Of course, I've been saying that about my journal since 1984. But it's become a huge distraction. Chronicling every ache, pain and bit of regret is, at best, self indulgent. I think it'd be more beneficial to channel that energy and those ideas into writing, music and art. Isn't that what an artist is, after all? Just someone who's trying to get all that poison out?

Right now I have at my disposal, in Neima, a weapon of unimaginable destructive power. But instead of exploring that incredibly interesting potential, I'm just licking my wounds and writing about it. Enough already. Let's sallie forth and give battle. I am, after all, The Mighty Wic.

I don't ask you to kneel before me. Just pull to the side of the road and let me pass.