All day long I’ve packed up the bungalow. Well, sort of. Parts of it – clothes, certain books, computer/office stuff. A couple of days ago, I packed all the photo stuff – nearly a trunk load on it’s own! I am in true vagabond mode now. Tomorrow is my last day official day in Venice for 8 months. Part of what is making this a reality is seeing my sublettor’s videos on YouTube of her cross-country journey from Washington DC. Tonight I believe she’s in Texas, getting ever closer . . Knowing that I leave Thursday and that she arrives the very next day is the only thing keeping me continually packing boxes. Otherwise, it wouldn’t seem real.

And it’s wierd. In the past when I’ve sublet my place, I’ve just walked away pretty much with only my clothes. This time, since I’ll be gone for such a long while and since I’m planning on working on in-depth writing and photo projects while on the road, I’m taking quite alot with me, but at the same time, leaving much in the way of personal effects behind. Example: taking granny’s letters, but leaving her Lennox china behind. This is the largest ‘move’ of my stuff I’ve made in over six years, and I must admit, it’s been a really good experience. I didn’t realize how much stuff I’ve collected! I’ve organized and pared down, which really needed to happen. But, the best part is that I haven’t had to move any furniture.

I’m really glad I’ve kept the art studio space too. I’m storing quite a few things there. So, all the physical ‘stuff’ of my life is, in effect, spread out over three separate places – car, art studio and bungalow. And my neighbor just the other day asked me if that seemed odd. It doesn’t. It just seems like I’m surfing, like I’m riding this wave, coasting in at breakneck speed, and it’s fun and it’s exhilirating . . .

There are drawbacks of going on the road – like putting life temporarily on hold. Like just when I get the call to leave, I meet Mr. Super Freakin’ Awesome and I’d like to stay and get to know him a lot better. It reminds me sorta of this Lyle Lovett song called “West Texas Highway” about a vagabond who hitches a ride. The hitchhiker talks to his ride about “his woman back in Abilene.” (Ahh, I’m glad we vagabonds have got something bringing us back home eventually.) The song ends with the driver saying “I wish to this very day, he had my clothes and this shiny Chevrolet and it was me with a woman back in Abilene . . . .” (The call of the road is hypnotic, yes . . . , but it’s the journey home that makes it all worth it.)