he addresses his objects
Rug: you are southwestern, you match the couches.
I have run the network cable beneath you.
Too much cable is still exposed, yet the feng shui seems better disposed.
Desk: you rest in state beneath my rear window.
My father helped attach your L-shaped return, for I do not know a nail from a hole in the ground.
In the night I will crouch behind you and watch my neighbors undress.
Paper lantern: I have appropriated your cultural connotations, orientalistically, for my bedroom.
I had to unscrew the light fixture in a precarious way to get you attached.
I hope you do not catch fire.
Kitchen canisters: you are glossy and blue, you hold rice and coffee and sugar.
I justified your purchase to myself as an "unavoidable moving-in expense."
This was bald sophistry.
those southeast portland babies
Purchased a rug today ("it really ties the room together"), and the local gnomes came to turn on my broadband. I think this marks the end of the Moving In Phase. Now begins the Living Here Phase. I am still hazy on exactly how this is going to work. The move wiped out most of my savings, as moves are wont to do, so after the fellowship runs out next month my economic moorings will be cut. I can do some work for my stepfather and some miscellaneous computer drudgery for other people, but these are temporary measures only.
I am only just getting my bearing on the local coffee shops, groceries, restaurants, bookstores, music stores (instruments and recordings both), parks, back roads with long lines of trees. It is so nice to be living in a neighborhood again. So nice not to be dependent on the automobile.
I am still planning to put out the CD whenever I have enough capital to do so. We'll see what happens. The book is still in New York, on different desks than it was before; now we wait.
