i am alone.

my room is empty. i am living out of a suitcase. i am at a square table with a bunch of technojunk cramped within fingers' reach.

i stretch my back. i will rest soon. tho i will probably remain awake through tomorrow. this is my usual m.o. for moving or travelling.

i am taking in the last few glimpses. of the way the light falls like a suspended stairwell along the contour of the cupboards in the kitchen, those distant, closed, and finally the fridge door acting like a screen against the back of the bar.

there is a bottle of Ajax on the bar... it is green against the pale yellow cabinetry, and recalls the green of the walls and lightshade.

i think of my guitar. i could not play it at this hour anyway.

i have been pondering my ideals, my sense of worth. all this shifting of objects rustled up moral and even metaphysical stuff for me. my worth and its relation to "stuff". and lack of relation at times.