...being I've been so "High on Life" these last few weeks. It's like a sugar crash, coming down now. I packed up some stuff I wanted to get rid of in case I needed to be light and jump a train and ride up top on the cars like Woody Guthry, dropped off the stash of personal belongings and history to the Goodwill.

Tried to sell some other seemingly valuable items, but eBay bidders felt different, I guess they were only important to me. But these items would not fit in my backpack.

Driving back from the Goodwill a weight was lifted then quickly regret filled that void. Sadness swept over me.

In my space I sat on the kitchen floor surrounded by what was left. The unwanted things. The left behind. The Misfit Toys. These too, must go.

I made a list of friends that I might give these things to, but I don't want them to feel like I'm unloading on them. Most of my friends live so far away shipping costs would be involved and that's counter productive to my needs and budget.

Another box is filled for Goodwill. More sadness.

If I owned a home where these things could be part of who I am, my history, it would be different. The regret grows.

Why couldn't I be more successful?

If I were wealthy I could have a home for these things and myself.

If I were smart about finances I could survive these coming times without stress and worry.

If I were street smart I could have survival skills to prepare me for the road ahead.

If I were emotionally stable and kinder to myself I would let love into my heart, tear down the wall around me and find a place for a lover in my life where we could be there for each other and shoulder each others burden and comfort one another.

However, I feel right now, until this feeling passes, that I'm just fodder for catastrophe.