September 21, 2013


Things happen in three's, everything comes full circle, life is suffering. I think when Buddha said "life is suffering" he should have included "but first you are going to be riddled with doubt in your twenties."
Our wanderings in the van are interspersed these days. Truth be told, I think I like this approach more than a seemingly never-ending nomadic style of being on the road - everything wears with time. I like the going away and I like the return. I like to move back and forth between the supposed normal (and sedentary) stasis and the perpetual motion of time spent on wheels. 

Last week during a stint in the suburban day to day, I was left with a stiff neck from too much On Demand yoga and forced to watch less taxing cable TV instead. That movie (note: only female readers between the ages of 20-25 and their mothers need read) with Josh Hartnett and Leelee Sobieski was on. She has terminal cancer and falls in love with an alcoholic jock trust-funder after she hears him recite a Robert Frost poem (thus breaking Josh Hartnetts trucker hat loving heart). Having never seen it when it was even slightly relevant to my puny brain (age 10), I watched (some of) it and was reminded of said Frost poem. I am about to relate my feelings to a Robert Frost poem. This is a cry for help save me now. But really though - everything full circle - I totally want to be the swinger of birches, moving and grooving, leave and go away for a while, but then definitely come back later after I'm done flying around in the trees - again and again. Take that Am-Lit 1. But this romantic swinger's party (he he) makes for a constant feeling of being in limbo, my sins being lack of direction and indecisiveness (note: I wouldn't have it any other way, right?)
We took the van up to Vermont, where Nate and I met - everything full circle, babies - and where I hadn't been since I left. Typically I take all Dylan prose to heart: I'm an artist, I have everything I need, and I don't look back...unless it's California I'm leaving, in which case I am always fucking looking back. But I think I have the right idea because truthfully, I was blue to be back in Vermont. Unfortunate emotional shift aside, let the record show that Vermont is one of the good states. It's beauty different from a place like the Grand Canyon - though certainly less "spectacular," one can look up a picture of the Grand Canyon, and in my opinion there it is, there you have it. I hardly took any pictures this time because I've left the blogosphere mindset and because so much of what makes Vermont Vermont is seen and understood only in being there (note: the word 'blogosphere' is actually passing as a real word). Was I blue because I revisited a place after some time and realized that 5 years later I'm in the exact same situation? Or was I blue because because the luster of the liberated "home is where you park" mindset has dimmed 5 months later and now I'm good and ready to have a hardwood floor of my own to lay down the rugs that I bought back in New Mexico? I can't be sure, but it's probable that when I do get that hardwood floor that demands a paycheck, a schedule, and obligations, I'll meet with doubt again.


  1. this struck so many chords with me….in the process of leaving a city (or rather, being forced out of a city) i can no longer afford and that has lost its luster. but as i leave san francisco and head into the unknown, i can't help but wonder if where i end up will be any better or different than where i left… i stay somewhere and my gypsy tendencies tell me to roam. i wander and i long for a sense of home. this neverending searching for something is a constant struggle, but it does bring a little comfort to know we're all in the same fucked-up boat together.

  2. Once again, i love the way you write :)
    I always been a scared bird who never left the nest properly but still feel that urge at the age of 36...
    wishing my body and mind had the the magic of ubiquity*