I've been getting ready leave Texas and head out to New Orleans.
Today... deciding what clothes in the closet are making the move with me.
The entire process was excruciatingly painful. Clothes, it turns out, are very important to me. There's not a real reason for it. I'm exceedingly grateful that I'm one of those people that annoy everyone else. I can wear just about anything. I'm essentially a walking clothes hanger. So it's not like I have to hold on to these because it's hard to find anything that fits.
But there are clothes I love. And I take very good care of them, so they're are shirts here that are 20 years old. I've managed to force myself though... the International Male shirts, which looked so damned good on me, with their generous sleaves and dropped shoulders, narrow collars and cuffs, are gonna of to find a new home. A Miami Vice jacket has bid me a fond farewell and gently folded its turquoise self into a box, taking its place besides a half dozen rayon shirts sporting Chinese characters which I never knew the meaning of.
I am lost... bereft. .. abandoned...
I need vodka.