to play with space and time

I’ve done it; I’ve filled the bottom layer of one suitcase with clothes and crap I know I won’t need until California. The tangibility of it all is frightening; I don’t want to leave, and I especially don’t want to pay exorbitant shipping fees for the extra crap I’ve accumulated. Other things that I don’t want include the following:

  • a giant chandelier covered in wet turquoise paint to suddenly descend from the ceiling above me
  • a debt consolidation plan
  • the eternal darkness of inter-galactic space
  • to be hassled by Customs officials about the small quantities of alcohol I’ll be underagedly carrying in my luggage
  • to be attacked by miniature bunnies


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