All That You Can't Leave Behind

It's ending, kids. It's all ending. Game over, man, GAME OVER...

Sunday aft, dismantled the metal kitchen table that I'd been using as a computer desk. One of the many pieces of IKEA-ware I've had with me for too long. Remnants of another life, repurposed for a new life that is now moving onto something newer.

There are some things that I've been endeavoring to get rid of that I may, in fact, hold onto. Fuck it, y'know? I'm moving because I'm trying to think longer-term... but in thinking longer-term, there are some basic things I'll probably need when I eventually move OUT OF this place I'm about to move into...

All right, I've got a lot of shit. But I'm no hoarder. Bouts of disorganization, mayhaps, but I looove getting rid of things. Whittled down my belongings before moving into the FOS 2.0 and I've whittled down further on my way out of here.

That said, yes. I'll still have a lot of things.

But here, "a lot" is relative to the average size of an affordable NYC apartment. And some of these things I'm keeping with full confidence that I will eventually be a big bright shining star in your skies and that I will eventually have a much more spacious Fortress of Solitude 3.0, wherein I'll have more-than-adequate space for all of my things.

Hallelujah.

Didja know-- my managers refer to my apartment as "the Fortress of Solitude" to me? They only do that because I refer to it as such in emails to them, of course, but still... peeeyyy-culiar! I don't think they read this blog but then again, I'm really not sure...

I have a lawyer. Three agents. Two managers. All working for me in some capacity. And I'm moving because I'm laughably broke.

You have to love the entertainment business.