I anticipated moving being difficult and complicated, but I underestimated the sheer magnitude of time it has sucked up. I started looking around the country for new employment in the beginning of September. Now it is late January, over four months later, and my possessions still lie in unsorted piles around my seat.

Too many things are fighting in my mind to make sense, too many things to write about, many of which are mildly amusing in the spirit of this idiotic journal. Some of you may understand when I describe my difficulty keeping up with things, like writing a simple thing or two for your hetero dog-4-life’s site. Others would blow me off with some flippant remark about time management. 

So I am making my time this evening, but I can no longer write about the hobos or wake-n-bakers in the fine city of Dallas, for I have moved to a magical land called Silicon Valley, opting for an old suburban house that bucks a bubble level like Casa Magnetica. My entry this evening does not have a focus so much as a salutation, a hello again, but while on the topic of the burbs, I have to agree with our host. It is good to be back from the concrete jungle, to be able to carry purchased goods directly into the house from the car without walking across a parking garage, going up an elevato, down the other end of the hall to one’s door, to wake up in the night not to people yelling over horns honking, but only cats sliding across the floor, to be able to sleep in because curtains can be installed in what is not a foot of 80-year old concrete, but ugly wood paneling. Yes I will take that paneling. I will like it.

In the near future, I will bring to you the joys and sorrows of a trans-continental move, saying goodbye forever to your twelve-year-old friend, and a tale of carrying on and making do with another.

Hello from California.

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