Why does what I'm saying scare you? I didn't say that we were through.

I listen to Massive Attack's "Blue Lines" about twice a day, everyday at work. I'm not sure if it's because it's that great of an album or if it's just familiar now. I went through a similar phase with Dar Williams's "The Beauty of the Rain" last month. I think Blue Lines is superior, so this phase might last much longer.

I just spilled coffee on myself. Normally I wouldn't even make note of this fact since I constantly do clumsy or messy things, except today I'm wearing one of my nicest dress shirts for the interview. I was considering not wearing the tie, even though Lowenstein did a great job this morning of knotting it for me, because I'm short-waisted and think I look weird in a shirt and tie with no jacket. But since the coffee stain is right along the seam of buttons, that decision has been made for me -- I'll need it to distract and coverup.

Last night I woke up at 4:30 am and was told to leave the house and didn't believe it initially but relented and I'm still not sure why. (Why I was told or why I relented.) Nothing seems extra special about this morning.

I've been feeling rather detached lately, no wait, that doesn't even make sense because one can't feel detached you just are because if I was feeling something I wouldn't be detached. Though I'm not exactly a robot or zombie, it's just, I can't quite get things lined up. And I didn't really put it together until this morning, even though I commented on it last night. trooper6 wrote this entry about how much of a Cancer he is and problems with his housing situation. This morning while standing by the copier preparing my applications, I realized this is the obvious cause of my own state of being. I'm getting ready to move and losing my home. Even though I'm excited by so many aspects of the new arrangment, it doesn't really matter. I will be homeless for approximately 12 hours and even after the truck is unloaded it still won't be mine yet, not until everything is unpacked and arranged and ritualized and lived-in. This is the reason why I procrastinate packing -- it's hard for me to think about packing up all my stuff tonight and living without it for the next four days, even though what are the chances I'll be working on an art project or needing my winter coat or listening to every single LP in my collection? Slim to none. But it's psychically upsetting to me. So I wait until the last minute and do everything hurridly to distract myself from the feelings. I need my home, my safe space, my shell, even if I spend 18 hours a day away from it every day of the week, I need to know it's there. It's hard to think of it being consolidated and boxed and sitting in a truck overnight. (But don't worry people who are offering to help, I'm making myself pack early, starting tonight even.)

Strangely enough, I constantly think about living a life on the road or without a real home, going from place to place. I love travelling in general and I'm good at it, which seems like a contrast to this safe-home feeling. But I tend to make some sort of a home out of whatever I can, even if it truly is my suitcase.

Maybe I need to make a mini-home altar in my apartment, put all my energy and security into that, then have it be the last thing I grab on Friday and the first thing I place on Saturday morning.

I just fcking spilled coffee AGAIN on myself. I give up. Hand me a straw.

I'm only here for this moment.

I've completed more tasks this morning than I'm often known to complete in an entire workday. What is this thing, productivity?

I've had some minor physical ailments in the past few days, mostly in the form of allergy attacks (including the somewhat embarassing experience of having my sneezes echo through the Ravinia pavillion on Saturday evening) but also some intestinal distress which may or may not be due to eating bad capers. Can capers go bad? I mean, I guess everything rots eventually. Who knew little flower buds could be so evil.

Occasionally I think about fasting and sometimes I even do it. It might even start unintentionally, like I realize it's been 16 hours since I ate so I decide to go another 12 more while drinking diluted fruit juice or whatever. I could do this today, except I've had coffee which isn't exactly a good fasting type beverage. But aside from the four bites of ice cream I had this morning while waiting for water to boil, I haven't eaten since about 4 o'clock yesterday. No real reason other than not feeling hungry. And the whole sitting on the toilet with great frequency problem I mentioned earlier.

Other times I think instead of fasting, I'll have a period of celibacy. That idea usually lasts about one-eighth of a second. But what I maybe think of most often is a vow of silence. Not for anything monk-like or excessive, like years or even months. But maybe just one day. One whole day of not speaking and with limited communication through other means (i.e. I wouldn't spend all day on e-mail and livejournal and IM or writing post-it notes). Would this have a similar effect as a one-day juice fast? A quick way of cleaning out my mouth, or more accurately my mind. A test of will, a lesson in paying attention to my words, an exercise in what I take for granted.

I wonder if I could get this approved at work, as a religious activity. I think about that conversation a lot too.

Someday I'll do it.