I went through and tossed more of my junk tonight in a bid to lighten the move up to Dallas since I’d like to get it done in one trip. The biggest things I own are the washer and dryer, but I have several boxes of stuff I’ve been lugging around for ten plus years: letters and sentimental stuff, a couple boxes of Mad magazines and comic books I used to collect, and piles of old college-era notes and papers. One thing I need to remember: stop buying notebooks and art supplies. I must have about ten pads of nice Bristol paper I’ve barely touched that I bought in one of those moments where I thought I might start drawing again. The little part of me that used to draw is in hiding, but I know he’s still there somewhere down deep.
Going through all that stuff made me feel like crap; old, stupid and nostalgic. It’s ironic in a way that ten years after moving to Austin I’m finally leaving. Something tells me I won’t get off that easy. Austin and the ghosts of Austin will stay with me.
I called Jody because I wanted to feel better, but she’s not one for babying me even though that’s what I was fishing for. We talked for a short while then I told her I was going to “run for the border” to get something to eat. I ended up surfing around for another hour or so until midnight and went to IHOP instead, the same IHOP where I would normally have a TM meeting. Brenda, the waitress I see every Monday morning, didn’t even recognize me although that’s probably because I was out of my context, showing up at night, unshaved and desperate looking. It is strange to expect recognition and then get none. I sat and read “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter”, and bolted down a plate of pancakes. IHOP was crowded with high school kids and other people out on the town and their presence just added to my sense of alienation. I ate as fast as I could and split.