A familiar theme

there's a melancholy satisfaction to packing. my scattered messy life is folded and stacked neatly in four or five boxes by the door. giving things away and throwing things away until it's all dependable bare surfaces and square corners. packing up, moving on. a familiar theme in these years' fugue; echoed with different dynamics, in new keys, and still that eerie hesitating staccato phrase.

Miscommunication

so i lost my cell phone the other weekend. got it replaced tonight, so i'm all wired again (or, um, wireless, i mean). i have a minor rant stored up about telecommunications companies, but i'll spare you.

but here's my point. my old phone has dragged countless phone numbers along into the abyss. and this means i can't call you to tell you i love you or to offer you money. and this means that you should call me to celebrate my new phone. it's still the same number.

(ok, actually, before the cell phone came along i used to keep a paper phone book, and everyone in that is safe--thus proving some important lesson about technology or the evil of telecom or something like that. so if i had your phone number before i got my cell phone, i probably still have it. but if you're not sure, you'd better call me just in case. it'll be fun. we can talk about something interesting like time travel or the weather.)

in other news, i've recently learned how to build a paradoxical time-travel machine and why you don't put a wool blanket in the dryer. and i will be in new jersey all next week. that is all.