my move is only about five blocks - a chess move, i call it, three blocks south, two east, and it's through a peaceful colorful neighborhood of lubbock, very nice. sometimes i have my tail-door open and my flashers on, and this is when i listen to bluegrass, only the best. steadily my back gets tired; i've been doing a lot of books. my wife's back gave out already. now, she's cleaning, i'm moving.

but we're in the second week, and it's getting a little tiring. also, things don't quite fit into the new house; it's not quite big enough. it's like our junk spread out to occupy every living inch of the old house, and we just have fewer inches, less house. that's why she cleans; i think she's better at throwing it out. half the time i look at it, don't know what it is, and just move it.

so it all came down to this doll house, that just wouldn't fit into the back of the van. we were out there on flint, which is a fairly busy street, and we were moving the doll house around hoping to wedge it in there, but it wouldn't wedge. it was just too big. had to take the roof off, right out there on the street. no problem though, i just got out my one remaining phillips-head, i got this on flint itself, i believe, and took off that roof. doll house made it. the remaining big things are: ping-pong table, glass patio table, futon frame. we'll see.

why am i telling you this? it's weighing on me. i've put off my poetry. i've stopped publishing stuff. i don't feel creative. i just make many cups of coffee, one at a time, and move move move. i like the silence of the new house. i've gotten one of my lazy-boy chairs back; i've reclaimed it, and with my coffee, i own this quiet little living room. back at the other house, i'm looking at stairs to fix, basement to redo, stuff to move. what a headache. my wife, however, has done a pretty good job with the upstairs.

lately i've started looking at these monster trucks that people drive around. i call them monster trucks because some of them are wide, some are extra-long and hold 4-6 people, etcetera. one guy told me he stopped bikeriding because the monster-truck drivers just couldn't see him. it wasn't an indictment of the people so much as just a statement of their size; these things dominate, they're everywhere, they're more common than cars, and they're big. anyway, one of the most popular brands is the avalanche. why would you want a truck with that name? i'm not sure. this is the flattest place on earth, the only hills are when they make one to make a ramp to cross one road over another. no hills at all, but you can drive an avalanche around town just in case. the newspaper, also, is called the avalanche-journal, as if it's an ongoing journal about what's coming down the mountain. well i'll tell you, the mountains are about five hours west, so if anything's coming down them, it's probably just that warm dry wind, not a whole bunch of snow. now silverado i could understand, that's a good old-west kind of name, has an image, you like the image, etc. we ourselves drive a sedona which is one of many named after these western mountain towns that have their own mountainy image. santa fe, tahoe, it's a whole genre. but avalanche? i don't get it. people like their truck named after their vaguest fears, maybe.

sons went off to see hobbit, girlies went off to play with a friend. a rare moment of peace, as it warms up a bit out here in south texas. it's quiet at the new house. slowly, boxes of clothes come over, and we put them away. sometimes even a pile of clothes hurts my back. that's when it's time to sit a spell. some of that junk'll just have to wait.