Well, I'm moving. Despite Tujunga's many charms and pot dispensaries, I am heading out. It's time for me to downsize. I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, no more neighbors begging for money, booze and toilet paper. On the other hand, no more apricot tree, garden or extra room in which to paint. My paintings will get smaller, I will buy apricots at the store and I'm sure I'll be able to find a place for a little container garden. I will miss the kid that walks by every day with the gigantic yellow afro.
My neighbors, the Borrowers, are also moving. They rent the house next to me and the owner is selling it- or rather, has sold it. If I'm lucky, the neighbors will end up living next door to me in my new hood.
So now I begin the task of paring down my belongings.
Shoes. I have so many. I have two feet and a hundred shoes, most of which pinch my broad, hoagie-like feet. Clothes. Millions, ranging five sizes since my body can't decide where on the scale it should stick.
Children's books. I thought I wanted to be a children's book illustrator my whole life, then I had the chance to actually try it and I hated it. God it was boring and stressful at the same time. I have boxes and boxes of children's books that need to go away.
Beads. Why did I ever think it would be a good idea to buy hundreds and thousands of beads for jewelry making? Clasps and jump rings and shiny and matte beads... all gorgeous and untouched. Maybe I'll keep them. Just to look at. And dream.
Knee socks. Tons. All striped. All too small. They sounded like a great idea at the time.
Hello Goodwill.
I guess I'm writing this as a documentary for myself- to sort of keep track of my brain throughout this process.
Wherever I go, rest assured, there will be a diary.
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