This is it, it is.

short post now from a remote computer... derek's house... laura and derek sprawled on the futon over there having some sort of "derek and laura" semi-heated (I'd say lukewarm, like a drop on the inside of your wrist and you wouldn't feel it, perfect for a baby's bath) kind of discussion and my brain is all box fiber and rubbermaid air from packing today, an anvil of anxiety shortening the breath. books off the shelves and bare walls, a mausoleum made of our house and mild philosophy (what will happen to all of us?) as a steady echo. last night laura, derek and I had dinner with blackmore at Thaifoon, D had to slip out but the rest of us closed the place and I leaned into what he was saying, tonight was the same thing but with other MITers added to the mix and heaping Chinese plates passed around instead of thai, I feel like this is the part where the credits should start rolling, we should all melt into slow motion and smiles of easy acceptance just before the fade-to-black. I feel too brave for my britches in a way, pick up Tycho under one arm and a box of books under the other and head to the sunset, wait for someone to stop me, and everyone else doing the same, but I guess the sun sets here and rises there and likewise we'll have a cliche for every leaving to dull the sentimentality.

I guess what I'm saying is... packing makes me scared. At the same time I have too much stuff - and not enough.