Well, it's tomorrow, but I figure I'll be busy and there's a Robert Pollard show directly following the move so I figure I'll be out of commission for a while. I'm at that stage of packing where you're like - fuck. I did not realize how much shit I had packed away in here. What a pain in the ass.
I talked to the super yesterday about logistics of the keys and the security deposit, etc and I asked him what happened to our old pal Jazzy McGee. He said that he thinks he had a nervous breakdown or something. He didn't mention how he knew this, but said it was really weird, that he was a music teacher at Harvard, that his parents were really nice and the super was in contact with them regarding his rent or they handled all his affairs or something and that he just sort of had a breakdown. Kid. Who did you think you were fucking with? Did you really think you could hang with this? Go home to your mommy, bitch.
Of course, I am moving partially because of him, so I shouldn't really be that cocky. But that never stopped me before. Anyways, I'm out of here in 24 hours so he's free to come back and raise hell day and night again until his feeble pathetic head breaks down again. I ran into his other neighbor (who I'd talked to about him before) on the street yesterday and we had a good laugh about what a douchebag Nellie Nervous Breakdown is.
Well, back to packing.
I shaved my head this morning in a ritualistic goodbye gesture: