leaving noises...not to be confused with arriving noises...

I will soon be joining the ranks of folks who were formerly missoulians.

It is not leaving Missoula that I am struggling with...it's making preparations to leave that is the trouble. Ive got too much crap and can't possibly take it all with me. Besides the exception of 60% of my closet, my records, coozies, tuna and my mother's trunk (oh and the back seat of the v. smokes van that is now mine), most of the things I possess will have to go. Liquidation sale? I don't know how to go about the weeding out process. If any of you want to accumulate more things, let me know if theres anything you have your eye on. Especially art and a set of dining room chairs.

And if anyone wants to get in on a garage sale of epic proportions, I bet that would help my situation as well.

It's weird how people don't tell you that they appreciate you or the things you do until you tell them you're moving away. I think it's just the nature of human folk.

Early Onset Dementia.

This house is haunted. Or perhaps it's just sitting atop a psychic hotspot, or maybe Missoula is some sort of inter-dimensional portal, or a Hellmouth. (Or maybe I've just been watching too much "Angel.")

Regardless, this house has taken to fucking with its residents.

I present Jared's complete loss of sanity as "Exhibit A." Beyond that, Ryan's been hearing voices and seeing imaginary cats. And I keep waking up vertiginous, severely disoriented.

On the 4th of July, for instance, I woke up on the couch with the impression that I'd been locked in the condemned house down the street. But I did know I was in Missoula. And I knew my name.

Last night, though, I woke up struggling to hang on to the bed which kept trying to tip me off, while somehow feeling as if I had been buried alive, and baffled as to where and who I was. After remembering my name, I spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out what country or state I was in ("My bed is full sand, so I must be somewhere near a beach... Am I in Australia? Maybe I'm back in Texas?"), which led me to try and figure out what year it was ("How old am I? If I'm in Australia, I'm 12, so it's... 1996? 1997?"), the time of day, etc. Finally, I decided I was in Missoula, but where in Missoula I might be was still pretty hazy...

Eventually, I cleared up the mess that was my head. But I've been stumbling through the day feeling as if I've totally lost my bearings.

I don't like it.

I wonder if this is what Alzheimer's or senility feels like?