I carried four 30-40 pound boxes a total of 14 blocks today; my arms, as you can imagine, are rigid with pain. But then, I suppose that's moving. I'm going to have to deliver at least two more similarly-loaded boxes a total of four blocks tomorrow. Then comes loading the car, treating my benefactors (Alex and Alena) to lunch or dinner, driving in shifts, driving driving driving. At the end I'll have to drive Alena home, and then I'll be somewhere new, officially.

Well, somewhere old, officially. But somewhere new comparatively.

It would be ridiculous to claim that I won't miss New York City. It's ridiculous in the way claiming you hate your ex from a long-term relationship is ridicuoous. It's way too complicated. I won't miss the palpable cautiousness people have here - in fact, I'm hoping it's the first attribute I'll shake off. I won't miss the noise, either. What I will miss is the access. I saw some damn fine shows, exhibitions, films, and general events here. I know I won't likely have that level of access again - that is, unless I move back, which is very definitely not in the cards at this point.

Even then, all that access, it's not that good. It doesn't square well with my nature. I like to hunt for my food, so to speak. And I like to savor it.

It's kind of awesome to be moving. I like everything involved with moving. You have to take stock of your situation in a serious way. You have to prioritize. Sometimes, as with this move, you have to travel long distances through lands you rarely ever get the chance to see. And don't forget that fresh-start feeling. When you move somewhere else, you are a blank slate to these people. If you're psychologically equipped to do so, you can become a new and wholly more effective person.

This will probably be the last entry from New York, fellas. Á demain.

Ryan
xoxo