i stripped my walls today of their colourful adornments, leaving myself headachey in the face of overpowering whiteness and these endless throbbing logistical calculations for a friday of moving. i've been haemorrhaging friends for the last few months and i've been vaguely aware of the fact, but it hit me especially hard today when packing rituals started to uncover scraps and reminders at the backs and bottoms of drawers, echoes of the way things used to be.

i've been nostalgic for the autumn in other ways lately anyway, waking up mornings with a leeching desire for alasdair roberts when he was new to me and harvest displays in the supermarkets and pumpkin bread and lustrous low-hanging moons and the reason i originally started using the green apple conditioner laura likes so much. inexplicable, that. i'm in love with the now. it was raining when i did this last year, when i had this moment of past bits uncovered-- this year, it's hot. laura and i were outside for some twenty minutes today after the ugly unpacking business and it drained me even further. some people have already left without saying anything to me and i know others probably won't when their time comes.

scattered thunderstorms in the forecast for friday just as move-in ensues. it'll be hectic and the apartment won't have everything right away, but there'll be enough for a comfortable first night and maybe some reassuring booms in the distance so i'll know the world is still happening outside the personally tragic microcosm of inhabiting a place.