Yep

Clean out the closet, pack up the books, and throw away the porn. In a matter of hours now I'll be in New York, possibly forever.

Possible, but not likely.

Anyway, I don't remember if I've mentioned this before but I'm not bringing my computer with me. Nor any other computer, for that matter. So forget what I said before, this really is the last post I'll make for a time. To my apparently regular readers, I hope you've enjoyed my fairly scattered, occasionally nonsensical, always tangential, and rarely grammatical posts. I generally I enjoyed writing them, though I couldn't bring myself to reread months past. Indelicacies of youth you understand.

I really really will keep in touch. I hope.

-Tom

She really doesn't like me, or it's the other way around

I vowed long ago to either never regret the things I did drunk, or not get drunk. It's an attitude that's served me well! I both have a way of coping with my ...confused memories and an out if I want to stop. And obviously, I can quit anytime I want.

*whiskey*

I'm realizing that there's one really great benefit for me for moving away. I can get away from my own tip-of-the-tongue syndrome I get most days. Here's the rundown: I'll be sitting reading on the couch in a cafe and a stranger will waltz in. Then, they see me there glancing up with what they think is recognition (It is confusion). Big smile, a 'Hey To-oh-OM!' and shake hands. I go, 'Hey yah-you! I was just on the way to the bathroom!' I take a piss and talk to myself while I wash my hands, 'Craig? Did I play soccer with him? Dan? No but it's got a D sound.'

This happens at least once a day. Twice today! (Pierre! It was Pierre the boy with the French name!) And I gather it's not to unusual when you live in one place all your life. Only for me it's a bit worse because I did live elsewhere for about 4 years now. So they get to do the BIG smile hand laugh thing and I look like Tommy-McAss-Jerk. I hate that so I usually just make up a name. Good thing my friends are all very polite.

Anyway, I'm moving 600 miles away to a city 100 times the size. And that's one thing I can relax about.

Until one of you fuckers surprises me in Central Park I mean.

And here's that Washington thing I was talking about.

Oh, darn, out of time

As my life approaches a critical point I can feeel it gain momentum. Events and plans spiral out from me and collapse, or, come to fruition before I even grasp their antecedants. I am at once dazzled and numb.

But there is a cure.

Rather a treatment, and one I shall I follow as close as necessary. I'll be lucky enough to have lots of help in the matter.

That is to say, for possibly the last time I'll see them in quite a while, I'm going out to drink with my friends. I can't wait.