Last day here. On BART. Bright shiny sun through the window here at West Oakland. Didn’t they use to call it pretentiously Oakland West?

Trying to psych up now for my return to bleakest Brooklyn and probably snow. Envisioning the apartment and my greeter cats. Nemo will want to be held a lot, will cling to me as I walk from room to room. The apartment will be very warm. Trips are bookends to eras of experience. It is important to sometimes go away. I always love how I see my space and my possessions anew when I get back from a trip. The volume and variety of my wardrobe especially always astounds me, like, is this really all mine? Part of the psyching up is remembering ensembles to wear in winter’s most severe frigidity.

There will be parties and poetry duties and prospective partners to follow up on, and job things to sort out, new students and a new course to plan and all these things will make the winter go faster. Or so I tell myself. I’m dreading the potential dread, the empty nights and void-feeling…

But since the dread is only potential and not real, maybe I can avert it?

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