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Boxes Boxes Boxes

May 22, 2003

As the move date draws near I'm reminded of previous moving experiences. Each night I've had a different nightmare about a previous address at which I once lived. On Monday I dreamed about 825 S. 2nd Street, the studio apartment I inhabited with my cat, Austin, prior to moving to Freeland Avenue. On Wednesday I dreamed of 1025 S. 8th Street, the one-bedroom, cockroach infested apartment I rented when I first moved to Philly in 1987. In the dream I saw Dr. Richard Kwasnik, the landlord who owned the building and whose podiatry office was located on the first floor. He explained that in addition to $1700 per month he'd also be requiring a $100 monthly kickback. I've been dreaming about people I've lost touch with over the years--friends from high school, college, former places of employment. I suppose it's all a part of the finality of heading to a new coast.

Despite my propensity toward neatness, I've been working to accept the mess of boxes that are now my life. I remind myself that the boxes are temporary. It's a part of the transition. But it's not easy. Despite the excitement of the cross-country drive, it's a bit scary. Mostly though, it's an exciting time, and one that Di and I wouldn't trade for anything.

But damn there are a lot of boxes.

On Tuesday night I packed up my art supplies and collapsed the metal drawing desk. It was a strange feeling closing it all down. Like closing down a shop. ALTERCATIONS has been on hold for a few weeks, and I know it will be a few more weeks before I'm back at the desk. But I will return to the book and it's going to rock. It will likely be the last sequential-art project for a while. The focus is more and more about writing.

A variety of projects are in production, including the novels PB and Jay, Summer of '74 and The Glass Onion. Short stories in progress include The Johnsons: The True Story of America's Most Reluctant Super-hero Family, World Suit, The Torch Is Passed, Death by Chocolate: 1943, U.N., Jesus Squad, and The 3-Step Method. Lots to ideas flowing with little time to complete them. Though hopefully I'll have ample time to write as we'll be spending many hours in the Subaru.

Movers arrive in five days. Two-thousand comics still to box--to say nothing of clothing, photo frames, etc., all tucked away into boxes made of sturdy cardboard. Now if we can only get Jasper the cat to quit pissing on them...

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