Saturday, December 30, 2006
So the house cleaning begins. Every day I drag more of these big black garbage bags, bulging with discarded memories and broken dreams, out to the curb. I won't need much wherever I'm going: a table, a chair, a bed, a dresser. Maybe some books. All the rampantly reproducing stuff and clutter and possessions and things need to be excised from my life like a cancer. The process is brutal, but what a relief when it's done.