Addicted to Change

Our house is currently being shown some love and care by our friend and favorite contractor. Subsequently I had to take evasive action with nearly everything in our diminutive home. A few bits and pieces ended up in the shed, a few others in the garage, but most of the “good” stuff ended up crammed in my office. Right behind me actually. I mean RIGHT behind me.

At first glance this room reminds me a squatters shack, or even crack house. It’s that disheveled. And yes, I HAVE been in a crack house. Research people, allllllllll research. Crack makes you whack!


The author, Southern Wyoming, 1980’s.

Last night when I finally reached over to turn off the light, which was now resting on the floor next to an old fur covered trappers backpack, a stack of framed photographs and a space heater I felt a strange sense of calm. I allowed my eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness and remained motionless on the bed, which was also sitting directly on the floor. The room was filled with strange light, coming out of things and off of other things, all of which I normally didn’t interact with in the dark. Light spilled through strange windows and the minute sounds were different from my normal room down the short hall.

It all felt so damn good. Good? Yes, good. You see, what all these new experiences, sights and sounds meant to me was that change was near. Again. I realized I’d been living in this house for approximately ten years, and this was, BY FAR, the longest I had lived in any one place. It’s easy here, really easy. No weather really, little trouble with those things we have to deal with living in cities, and for these reasons I CAN’T WAIT TO GET OUT OF HERE.

Leaving will be a royal pain in the ass, it always is, but I need it. My soul needs it. And guess what? I’m probably going to have to move a place, Los Angeles, a place that I promised myself I would NEVER live in again. But I don’t care. I need the unknown, I need the change. Static isn’t me. Easy isn’t me. Directionless isn’t me.

The problem is I know what’s out there. I don’t know the details, only the meaty parts. Unknown. Adventure. New faces. Frustration. Voices in my head….just kidding.

I printed a map of Central London. I looked around the room. I printed a hotel reservation. I looked around a little more. I packed my passport, my F6 and twenty rolls of TRI-X. I closed the door and sat on the floor, breathing in the history around me. As they say “the journey is the destination.” Wait, did I just use that cliche? Oh God no. Did I? Please don’t hold it against me. I take it back. Seriously……DO OVER! Never happen again.

Whew. Breathed it all in. Tried to find a truth or two. Change is in the air. The winds of change are fast approaching. “The pitcher is into his wind up…it’s a change-up.” More cliches. I’m rambling.

When I close my eyes and daydream I see vast expanses of nothing. Dust and sunshine. I see no permanent address. I see fluidity.