I'm very happy with the way my life is going, but the changes still engender sadness. I'm moving. To San Francisco. I'm leaving New York City, my home now for some six years, and for the first time I don't know when I will return. The wheels are spinning and life is ramping up for another big shift. Hoping for smooth transition -- avoiding a stall, minimizing the aroma of burning clutch.

In the odd early morning hours odd fantasies creep in. I've been up all night packing and goofing off and thinking about things. What will the conditions of my next trip to town be? What would it be like if I lived off in rugged New England, spent time verbally sparring and making out with country-musician lawyers. What dreams may come.

I hit the circuit of friends. The final rounds. I saw Sasha again, which was easier to do and harder to walk away from than I anticipated. Still a lot going on there, not that it's of much consequence at the moment. Then a long ride through the City and into Queens to have good Puerto Rican dinner with Sam and Andrew; keep the connections alive and flowing. Finally a couple drinks in a couple Brooklyn bars and staying up all night packing and posting in a fun thread on dKos.

I'm moving. I'm moving. I'm moving. I'll miss you New York.