Cast adrift

Closed on the house. Happy, happy, happy, happy, so happy.
See me clap my hands. See me jump up and down. See me laugh.
I see open water and big waves.

what we own now

Lists, lists, lists, scattered behind me in a long trail. Lousy memory, too much to do. Eventually, if I get my way, I'll stop needing them for a bit. But meanwhile, nasty habits die hard. Here are my current lists:

Take to the thrift shop:

• Three tall lamps, all leaning at funny angles
• Shoes, two pairs pretty but hurt my feet, one pair very practical for snow, but more snow than I ever walk through anymore, and one pair just ugggly. What was I thinking when I bought any of these?
• Two office chairs

Sell or leave behind for house-buyers:

• BBQ
• Lawn mower
  

Throw away:

• A lot of broken outdoor furniture
• A rug that Future chewed on and barfed on a couple times
• Old, uncomfortable mattress that hurts my back, hate that fucking mattress
• Frame that mattress sits on, part of the problem too
• Broken sewing machine
  

Put in storage:

• Two dishes, two bowls, two pots, wok, French press coffee maker, silverware, spatula, carrot peeler, chopstick set, rice cooker, can opener, wine opener, wine corker
  
• The rug that Future didn't barf on
• Stereo amplifier, DVD player
• Sewing kit
• Alan's cute painting of naked girl that I think is hot too
• Futon couch, three little pillows
  
• Tool kit, Makita, little handy saw
• Little writing desk
• Three boxes of clothes
• Five boxes of files
• Art I just can't part with
• My bicycle

Bring with us to temporary crib:

• Two sets of sheets, two towels, bedspread, four pillows
  
• Traveling clothes and just a few winter clothes to get us through November, three pairs of traveling shoes, three pairs of winter shoes
  
• Camping stuff
• Two laptops, two briefcases, two crates of current paperwork
• Spanish language books, South America travel books
• Travel stuff - passport, vaccination paperwork, drugs of all kinds, sunscreen, mosquito repellant
• Purse and all that crap that goes in a purse
• CDs of favorite music
• Keyboard and table to put it on
• Future's food, bowls, toys, treats, leashes, poo-bags, travel water bowl
• Future

Do:

• Finish off this bottle of sake I'm drinking right now
  
• A half-dozen different contract gigs between me and Alan to make money for trip
• Get travel medical insurance
• Buy plane tickets to whatever city in South America on whatever date is cheapest
• Book accommodations for Carnaval in Brazil
• Sell one of the cars
• Confirm a temporary home for Future
• Pick a date to leave
• Close on house
• Read South America travel books
• Vote
  
• Stop making lists
• Leave
  

Those are the shortest lists I've had in a long time. We actually like the house a tiny bit better now that it's empty.

I've already waxed rhapsodic about being jobless, but I'm going to wax a little more. Because I'm still discovering more. Hey guess, what? I do voices. Funny voices with funny accents, for no reason at all. I'm funny. And I have crazy, million-dollar ideas. And crazy, laugh-at-midnight ideas. And crazy, what-the-hell-did-I-just-say ideas. All the time now. Must have before too, but I forgot. The creative brain needs a lot of room to breathe, or it just becomes a machine.

Alan came home from a party tonight and said, "Rich people are wierd. They're all looking for something, but they have no life to leverage." I have no idea what that means, but it sounds vaguely profound to me at the moment, as I leverage what matters to me and jettison what doesn't.

I feel OK about what we own. Less stuff. More ideas.

P.S. Go see Bug at Pillsbury House Theatre. Exceptional performances, great script, fantastic directing, hell of a show. The whole audience squirmed visibly. And they just kept shaking their heads after it was over like people who had been in a really big earthquake together. Disturbing, moving, haunting, thought-provoking, alive-making and disorienting in that really fabulous way that only theater can be.

A cup of tea

Had many many friends pass through over the weekend and buy our stuff. Some found things they were truly excited about. Some, I suspect, just found something as an excuse to support our travels. Aw gee. That was nice. Really nice. All choked up nice. It was a long weekend with many hugs, and we happily own much less stuff now. Liberating as hell to purge the stuff. Especially when traded for hugs.

Went to make a pot of tea the day after and discovered we don't have a teapot anymore. That was funny. And perfectly fine. Don't really need a teapot. Didn't really need hardly any of that stuff that we sold over the weekend. If I have tea one cup at a time, I can enjoy making each cup.

Found the perfect home for so many treasures: the Audrey Hepburn coat, the purple couch, the art made by great local artists, the Montreal scarf, even my old flute.

So now we are wandering around a house filled with leftover junk piled up on every flat surface. Spent much of the day posting things on Craig's List. OK, maybe I'm the last to discover it, but Craig's List has become the most fabulous thing ever. We've already sold many things to many strangers. I guess it's just like when strangers come to your garage sale, but somehow with all the tentative emails along the way, it's very odd.

Next weekend we move to temporary digs, and Alan has been on the phone beginning to work out dates for plane tickets. We close on the house October 26th. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease let us close on the house. Because we are so ready to. And we don't have any stuff anymore. Or jobs.

Oh wait, I haven't posted in a while, so I haven't even mentioned how fucking fabulous it is not having a job. So this is what life is like? I nearly forgot! I don't ever want to have a job again! OK, probably I will, but jesus, this is really really great. I might not ever want to have a truly FULL time job again. What happened to all the leisure time we were all going to get with the increased efficiency computers made? We got soooo screwed. I've only worked harder and harder. Seems like everyone else has too. Maybe this country wouldn't have its collective head up its collective ass if people worked a little less and remembered how important a blue sky, healthy citizens, connected communities, and well-fed neighbors are. Or if everyone got full nights of sleep. Or did anything they do just a little slower and more thoughtfully.

I'm going to go make some tea, slowly, in a cup. Because the teapot is gone.

love love love

From my current favorite band, The Mountain Goats:

king saul fell on his sword when it all went wrong,
and joseph's brothers sold him down the river for a song,
and sonny liston rubbed some tiger balm into his glove.
some things you do for money and some you do for love love love.

raskolnikov felt sick but he couldn't say why
when he saw his face reflected in his victim's twinkling eye.
some things you'll do for money and some you'll do for fun,
but the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one.

Small crowd at Thirst last night.

1) Joseph Scrimshaw, Stephen B. Young, Phil Callen, Caroline Poole (behind the pole) in Joseph Scrimshaw's serial. 2) Charles Frasier in Alan Berks's airport monologue. 3) Ron Menzel and Christina Baldwin in Kim Burke's noirish musical.

Probably not enough money in the kitty to pay the talent there that night, obviously they're doing it for love, not money. Living in a place and time characterized by mad obsession with oil and comfort, I wish more people would do beautiful, silly stuff for love.

a little troll named fate

A friend gave me a card recently that said, "Ever notice that 'what the hell' is always the right decision?" Yeah. I noticed. I'm a fucking practitioner. Ask all the coworkers, neighbors, friends, lovers, pubs, schools, coffee shops I've left behind. Nah, I'm not going there with this post.

But yes, I got no problem leaping. Comes easy. Comes natural. Almost a fetish for me. It's often a choice between claustrophobia and adventure. Duh, not a hard choice. But I gotta say, and I say this in a conspiratorial whisper, all the adventures have been good. Not just good, uhm, dare I admit, charmed?

Very few regrets. Lots of great memories. It's all been pretty easy. So far. How long can a roll like this go on?

A breeze came through, turned me on that string the universe dangles us all from, and look, a whole new panorama. We sold our house the same week I finished up at the Fringe, the same week some paying work came through, the same week some short-term places to stay were kindly offered. Now that's all just too good.

We dared to be cheerful about it, even a bit giddy and liberated, and I warned Alan, "Don't tempt fate." He said he thought I didn't believe in fate. And I clarified, not the destiny kind of fate, no, but a little troll creature named fate, yes. with a pock-marked face and a bulbous nose, who is easily tempted by hubris and exacts revenge by fucking up your pretty sky.

But here's the good news. My back went out again. Full spasm. Slept on the floor last night, pinned down by lots of blankets and a cat who is somehow getting fat on Lite food. Haven't taken one of my magic opiates yet because without insurance now I'm rationing. And I think I've caught a very wicked cold.

It's maybe the most gorgeous day of the year and I'm holding down the couch with kleenex and moans. So there, you little troll, we're even, OK? So keep your creepy fat fingers off my sky, will ya?