After nine years of living in the penthouse of the Alexandria Hotel, I am moving. I just got a chill. Even though I'm only moving two blocks away, it feels like a much bigger move. Living here the past nine years has been such an amazing experience, full of absolute standout memories - good and bad.
Before I could blog about the impending move, I had to tell my loftmate Bob, who, according to his postcard, was in Nya Tryckeriet, Lycksele (otherwise known as Lappland). I drafted an email giving notice, then called Jim over to ask his opinion. I read the email to him and was crying by the end. I'm such a sap. Bob came back this weekend but hadn't read my email when he called yesterday. So I had to rely on my amazing powers of recall and deliver the sensitive, well-crafted and finely-honed message orally, without crying. My memory sucks. I left out most of the good stuff. But at least I didn't cry.
I turned my screenplay in to bigshot producer at 1:23AM Monday morning. Since then I've been waxing nostalgic about the penthouse and daydreaming about the other penthouse that Jim and I will soon call home. I'm sad and excited, happy and anxious about saying goodbye to this place and saying hello to the new.
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OK call me a sap too, but after visiting "Kevin's Dead Cat," reading about your sister and the man that she left behind, and then reading about you leaving the penthouse, I'm crying too. Celia - you are amazing and I'm so thrilled for you that you've found hapiness for yourself. It seems, perhaps, that your healing time has completed itself. I remember how you mentioned to me that your theory about the penthouse was that it was a place that people come to "lick their wounds" and heal themselves before venturing out into the world again, anew. Congratulations to you. I can't wait to see you and the new pad. All my best; I'll be home in a few days. ERIC
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