10.29.09 - 10:31 pm

that dull tingle you get when your arm falls asleep. not quite pain, but an uncomfortable lack of sensation. like feeling pressure under a stack of thick blankets.

thats what the upper segment of my index finger feels like. the tv remained impartial, unblinking.

moving. i used to move once every july. every year.

2001 420 house to college inn.
2002 college inn to maple tree.
2003 maple tree to the keep.
2004 the keep to the castle.
2005 the castle to the crows nest.
2006 the crows nest to the two bedroom.
2007 the two bedroom to the creston villa.
2008 the creston villa to the creston villa.
2009 the creston villa to the townhouse.

i said i wouldnt do it. i preached and deplored it. not me, said i, not this guy.

and then i did.

i moved in with a girl. a real live girl. a girlfriend even. i took the next step of adulthood my mother had been waiting for me to achieve: cohabitation. julie and i found an absolutely wonderful town home in tigard. 4 miles from sherwood. uncomfortably far from south east portland. but with julie and ashton and yertle the turtle.

and then the process unfolded:

acquire boxes. disassemble bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms and bathrooms. shuffle unnecessary amounts of unnecessary things into even more unnecessary back and forth transports. open boxes, lay out all the belongings and like a 5000 piece puzzle figure out how it all goes back together again.

coordinate an army of trucks and the people that own and operate them. coordinate other friendly males, in particular ones with muscular strength and patience. lift, load, reverse and repeat.

then the tv. pushing a boulder up a flight of stairs. early man had ropes and oxen. we had only our wits and domestically trimmed fingernails. when its weight sank into the flesh at the fold of my finger, i knew how deep it had pierced.
when i slid my finger out from the plastic i peered inside my flesh window like a curtain spreads before a stage.

i could see the thick layer of skin sitting loose on top the inner flesh of my finger.

then my heart forced back open the millions of pinched blood vessels, desperate to drain my entire body as quickly as possible. pools on the tv. spray on the walls. drops on the carpet. a cascade over the bathroom sink knobs.

three bandaids and a protective black glove allowed the tv to be pushed to the top of the stairs and then no further. it sat there for five more days.

a dull warm sensation of pressure. touching it causes my face to distort in disgust. its not supposed to feel like that right there.

julie and i have the edges of the puzzle put together. some sections of the middle. its going to be a fantastic picture. i definitely see plenty of ashton. i havent yet found the pieces of my career yet to add to top, but its somewhere.

i see a fish tank move causing plenty of injuries and defeatism shortly. more to come.