...and Rodan lives on Northport...it's true!

I feel as if I could actually split myself open and share my stomach contents as stew with the less fortunate....that being, those that are unfortunate enough to stand in a soup line that ends with a bowl of my half digested meals of the past several days. There's probably some sort of law against that to begin with, so I won't even bother. Instead, I'm just hoping to get gas to release some of the pressure.

Last Wednesday I officially walked out of my job with the clear and determined intention NOT to return to it. The end of my work day consisted of wiping my computer clean of any personality, bookmarks, folders or other tale tell signs that I once worked upon it. My personal coffee cup was cleaned and packed....the pictures that were mine were rolled and stored for transport....and a list of work needing to be completed was left at the foot of the keyboard. I locked up the office, arrived home and immediately started packing my bags. At 2am Thursday morning Clint and myself were on the road on our way to New York.

This had been a decision that had been killing me for months....lingering in the back of my mind since the previous June. This was a decision that at moments made me litterally physically ill and so insanely stressed out that I couldn't tell which way was up. This was a decision that has long been overdue.

Now, a week later, we are on the return to Louisville with the direction I think we both needed to get things in motion. And I return with about a months worth of food in my stomach. You see, the running joke about me with all of my close friends (ok, ONE of the many running jokes) is that I am an anaconda....that is, on an average, I probably eat one full meal every two days and do just fine that way....anything more makes me lethargic and gassy and basically unpleasant to be around. On this venture my average has most likely increased to a "normal" three meals a day. I feel bloated and drunk and have a strong desire to dawn a wig and promote art, but that's a whole seperate story as well as an inside joke that most of you aren't going to get so I digress.

I actually have no idea where it is I was going with this blog....not really that I ever have had any clue what I'm trying to say when I start writing....I suppose that I just felt that I should write something after receiving several messages asking wether i was ok or dead. Wether I killed myself or Clint, and one message from my former employer asking wether I planned on returning to work or not.

In response: I'm fine....better than I've been in two years actually. I am unemployed, I will be 35 in 3 days, I will be living in New York in a matter of weeks.....and I've never felt so ok with my situation since I can remember.

Except for the amount of food I've consumed.....so, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go upstairs and fart on Clint.

Goodnight.