UPDATE

Here in Philly being spoiled- slept like a rock. Cats are fine- totally fucking ok with all of this. And so am I. Thank god for my cousin- pampering me, taking care of me. Me and my cats feel totally safe. We go to the airport again in a few hours. We’re fine. And I’m excited.

When next I write I’ll be in Italy…. Wow.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

I’m sitting in the airport- I’ve said goodbye to everyone I know. All my possessions INCLUDING my cats are packed into two cat crates, 3 suitcases and a box. And that’s it.

I’m moving. Via airplane out of the country.

Holy fucking shit.

This is intense.

My cats were crying so loud in the airport- now they are probably howling on the tarmac. Good lord. After much deliberation I decided NOT to sedate them. I, on the other hand just dosed up… Thank god for Vicki and her magic pills.

So here I am- all puffy and cry-faced- sitting listening to the worst smooth jazz airport nightmare music. All sorts of visions of my life in LA running thru my head- and crying. People walking by, looking at the girl in the corner quietly crying into her laptop.

Thank god I’ve got a sense of humor.

I guess is what people mean when they say I am brave for doing this. This is fucking intense.

So I go to Philadelphia tonight where my cousin will be greeting me and taking me home for a night to relax with the cats. She’s gone food shopping and rented movies- and she is going to take care of me for my last night in the states.

And that’s it. That’s all. I feel crazy- and excited and scared and like I want to throw up and sob and laugh and freak out all at once. I’m on the verge of a panic attack and then I remember the colloseum or the way the traffic snarls itself around the piazza Venetia… and I get a secret smile. And the fear goes away.

I DONT USUALLY

Like chrismas songs- but I think this one is a hit:

Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingle all the way...

ODE TO SHINGLES

ODE TO SHINGLES

Oh my dear sweet shingles-
How you make my arm tingle
Your virus thru my blood mingles
Reminding the world why I should probably be single

Red, itchy, painful spots
Blisters, boils- fucking blots
They told me herpes you are not
Although that’s a story I have not bought

I’ve got the shings- what can I say
As I get older, I’ve begun to decay
Fucking hell, I wish they’d just go away
But I’ve got to stay strong- never to dismay

But I say fuck it- it’s not my fault
How am I to fight such a physical assault
One day all this will halt…
Until then I’ll just eat a shit load of salt…

I’m really not that worried, I mean I’ll survive
So what if I can’t sleep or drive
It’s not like I’ve got hives
Some time you gotta take the shings in stride.

Astonishingly…

its been almost a month since I've written. SO MUCH has happened, I suppose I've just been too busy to write about it all.

For starters, I am officially out of my apartment. As of the 10th of January I was out. What a haul to get out. But I am organized and so put together- I now am down to odds and ends of things to get done before I am off.

Also I was in Colorado for a week or so visiting and relaxing and building snowmen (only to get drunk and knock them over) and building a bon-fire on new years…. It was so great to be there- me, and my whole family all crammed into this tiny house sharing one bathroom having a blast. My big project was doing an awesome horse paint by number while I was there. Really ugly and really fun. (My father made me give it to him… ridiculous)

Speaking of ridiculous, I was diagnosed this morning with having shingles. SHINGLES!!!!! It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard, but I have this tiny weird rash, and as it turns out its fucking shingles. It’s such an old lady disease. Actually it’s really an encore of the chicken pox, or some such shit… who the fuck cares. I’m on drugs, it’s going to go away, it won’t last long, it doesn’t itch, it’s not painful…it’s just, fucking, SHINGLES. Hilarious really. But watch out…if you haven’t had chicken pox- I can give them to you… how dope is that? I’m carrying “the pox” My father and I have been coming up with nicknames for me- his current favorite right now is “shingles the clown”- “shingles” is a close second. Dad says I should become a roofer… it’s getting stupid around here- but what are you gonna do with shingles??? Good grief.

On a more serious note I am starting to have serious second thoughts about traveling with the cats. I am so torn over what is the MORE responsible thing to do, take them with me- don’t abandon them- freak em out, but at least we are TOGETHER. OR, go to Rome get an apartment and get situated and then come back for them… I guess If I felt like I had someone I could trust to leave them with that would make the decision easier, but that isn’t the case at all. Or more pointedly the people I trust can’t take them. Which is kind of freaking me out (probably why I got “the shingles” they’re stress related)… I don’t know. But I have been proceeding with plans as if they too are getting on a plane with me in 19 days.

19 days. Holy mother fucking shit.

That’s like- really soon. I’m TRIPPING. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this- I am near panicked, but really excited, but nervous and happy, and scared…and HOLY SHIT. Rome. I’m going to LIVE IN ROME in like, two and half weeks.

Wow.

But there are fun times ahead until then- Vicki is coming to town, Damaris’s birthday, a HUGE goodbye party. good shit-

For now I am praying for a job to come along to give me extra $$$$$. I have been filling my days with, running errands, going to my storage (seems like there is always a reason), canceling credit cards…all that kinda shit. It’s fun to get rid of everything. This weekend I am having a huge yard sale (if it ever stops fucking raining. Holy shit it’s been raining since the 27th of December. Gimme a f-ing break.)

Anyway. That’s all. Crazy shit. For now, me and my shingles are going to bed.


I’ll be in touch sooner than later.