fucking 'ell. this seems familiar, the sudden stuffing of random items in unorganized boxes into my car and dumping them in the living room of my half cleaned house (i spent an exciting evening at home on friday and i cleaned my kitchen and my bathroom). i've got two days to clean out my dad's trailer.. i'm going to have to ask dorothy to give me a couple of extra days to get anything big and heavy out. i stopped by there the other day, i've been putting it off for a month because.. i just didn't want to go there. not because i was sad or scared or silly.. maybe because i'm silly. i made myself go the other day and realised how much stuff he had. not that i intend on taking it all, but the more i came across random tokens of my youth and former family life, the more i wanted to take, the more i wish i had room for, the more i wish i had called him more often while he was in the hospital, the more i wish i had been able to do something more, anything more than i did, which wasn't much. [and you know that's not true]. so here i am with a dead father, a jailed brother, and estranged mother. entirely disconnected, except to this stuff in my car that i've got to unload so i can fill it back up again, only to unload and repeat. again and again into eternity until the last scraps of paper and filaments of dust fall from my fingers and i can be free.

but don't you see? i already am.