October and November are always a whirl. since 2001 I can’t remember an October or November that had any breathing room. Ever since I moved to London on 3 October 2001, jump forward 7 years 1 month and 1 day and I can’t wait for this November to be over. And I’m not only – but I am surely – talking about the election.

With the Flux Factory’s recent eviction, starting in early October, I completely boxed up my life and put everything I own into storage, in a shed at an undisclosed location in New Jersey. To be honest even I don’t know the location of said shed; but I would like to incredibly thank my friend Angie for her assistance with my upheaval. I haven’t produced a piece of art in over two months due to the eviction, and I’ve had to spend most of my time consolidating my life, including throwing away a fair number of tools, clothing, raw materials, incomplete artworks, etc. A fitting end to life at Flux Factory.

The month of October also saw me quit my job of 3 years, as I had to make a decision, to continue with life in NYC would require my income and creative control to move up or move on. I made my decision.

This decision was encouraged by some recent family health and grievance issues, which being in NYC I had no control over to either guide or invigorate. Also made problematic that my job didn’t give me much flexibility in terms of vacation, travel for health, time off, etc.

Knowing an eviction was imminent, and my employment would end concurrently, I’ve decided to go nomadic. I’m blogging from a cafe in Flatbush, Brooklyn, currently homeless and crashing on couches throughout the borough. At the end of this calendar week I’ll be travelling by train to my hometown of St. Louis, which I haven’t visited in over two years now (see this link).

But I’m by no means complaining. I’m loving these weeks, these moments with friends, the way in which one survives on coffee.

I’ll go back to about mid-October, when I took a trip upstate to the Farm, and spent some time with the frost, the leaves, and some new family including Pepper and some chickens Americano:

A sign of things to come, the end of Flux Factory’s residence-arm really began with Ian’s departure. He’s on a BMW motorcycle now, somewhere in Georgia or Florida (don’t worry he cast his absentee ballot!) en route out West:

With Ian’s departure, I also become the most-senior member at the Factory. This, I actually didn’t realize until nearly a week after Ian left and someone else pointed this out to me.

Even with an eviction pending, the Flux Factory staff continued to work hard, planning for our final ever party:

Chen works, sans desk, surrounded by boxes and piles of crap:

I love the doors ajar, the box that can’t close, the ad on the floor, the blue fork. Just throw it all away already!

Flux Factory knows how to make trash. We went from this:

To this, on numerous ocassions:

At the same time, we know how to turn a shitty DJ booth:

into a most-awesome DJ booth for one of the most-awesome parties ever:

The Flux Factory’s final party, the End of the End of the End (To Be Continued…) was definitely most-awesome. Props to Shalin for organizing over 50 performances for the evening. Although the true success of any party is when your six – yes, six – kegs run dry and you need a 2am beer run:

Me and Tyler at the Pathmark at 2am.

Flux Factory knows how to party:

White Limo gave a smashing closing performance:

are those Ironclad’s he’s wearing?

Unfortunately our partytude nearly made Seb cry:

and put Daupo to sleep:

it’s a shame I didn’t make a video, but the soundsystem was bumping at this moment.

And my costume, no doubt, was a hit:

me sitting on a couch-costume.

What will come of Flux Factory now? There’s a thought:

So starting this Sunday I’m on the road. Going to St. Louis via DC and Chicago on Amtrak. I’ll be in the Midwest by early next week for at least a month, if not two. My Flux Factory address is dead. Long live Flux Factory.

I’ll be around. My wifi is about to expire. Gotta press publish.