August 08, 2002 | 10:31 AM

Oh the stress ladies and gentleman.

I barely have the time to further contemplate the metaphysical ins and outs or psychological underpinnings of THE BIG MOVE (which is tomorrow).

Every waking moment is spent planning, packing, budgeting and schlepping.

I do not anticipate having any �moment of closure� over leaving the Allston pad or all that move entails because I must deal with the mind numbing parade of practicalities. I won�t have a chance to absorb it all I think until well after I have unpacked my last t shirt and framed my last poster in the new place.

For today, I have a To Do list that runs about three notebook pages and requires me to jet all over the Boston area as though on some ridiculous sorority planned scavenger hunt.

There are things to buy and laundry to wash and large items to shove into boxes that aren�t big enough and credit cards to cancel and blah blah blah blah.

A few months ago, I was sort of expecting these last days to be the Requiem For Lost Youth/Love/Ideals period. You know�lots of nostalgia and tears and big feelings, along with of course looking forward to the future and all that. But it isn�t like that. I�m just fixated on what needs to be done and how to go on with my life. And the past is just the past.

I�m waiting for it to really hit me� What this means. But maybe I got hit with so much in the past few months (years?) that I'm sort of immune to it now. Or maybe I�ll have a delayed reaction and the real magnitude of everything that�s happened and is happening will envelop me some weeks later.

But maybe not. I have a strange history of obsessing and obsessing and exploring and re-exploring the same issue�of fixating on something and then poof� out of the blue just letting it go. Not that I stop caring but just that suddenly whatever issue or emotion loomed so large is placed in a different context. Like the Empire State building suddenly shrinking down to the same size as every other building on the block.

Anyway...

Xmasface and Debbie were kind enough to drive me and some breakable items over to the new pad last night. They sweetly lugged boxes of records and framed pictures and my computer monitor down three flights of stairs, drove to Cambridge, parked illegally, and dragged it all up another flight of stairs. I showed off my place and after seeing it a second time and the shock of it beginning to wear off, I am falling in love with my apartment. I cannot believe that it�s my home. How did I go from wearing the same dress for six months and sleeping in the airport, living on cheesedoodles and never brushing my hair to having these great jobs and great friends and this amazing home? I am so thankful and I blessed and last night I was a lot quieter than usual because I�m just stupefied by how wonderful I really do have it.

After we finished unloading, the three of us went out for burgers at this diner that was trying to be all cutesy 1950�s. And over the PA system they played the same two Neil Diamond songs over and over again.

I hate Neil Diamond. Passionately. My ex step-father had a Neil Diamond CD and I set it on fire in my backyard. That�s how much I despise him. Hearing his voice or viewing his oily glitter shirted physique gives me seizures. I don�t know what specifically it is about Neil that inspires such devoted hatred on my part because really he�s no different from a bunch of other sap peddlers like Barry Manilow or Streisand or Wayne Newton, all of whom I find irritating and ridiculous, but can�t say I actually loathe in my heart.

But Neil. Neil is far worse.

He and every last one of his arrogant limp dick number one singles should be doused with gasoline and burned at the stake. Cracklin� Rosie, indeed.

But my point is that I was so happy to just be hanging out with Debbie and Xmas (Kreuz from The SAGA) that Mr. Diamond�s symphony of schmaltz just went in one ear and out the other without causing any severe brain damage.

And the burgers fucking ruled.

Afterwards we were all pretty warn out so we went home .

And I was exhausted but happy. And in the car we listened to an awesome mix that Xmas made Debbie. The mix was inspired by Donnie Darko

And I found out that I really really like Imperial Teen.

OK.

I have serious shit to do now.

I probably won�t be updating for a few days, so �til then.