August 9, 1991
I’m just beginning to realize that three days is not, in fact, a whole lot of time to pack up my worldly goods.
This is more difficult than a normal packing job because I’ve got to think: What will I need in Central America? In California? I have to ask myself about every item: “Can I live for a year or two without this (book, videotape, whatever)?”
There’s actually a kind of pleasure in the thought of going a year without my journals, photo albums, TV, stereo, music, computer games, car, all that crap. It strips me down to my bare humanity.
