Thursday 27 August 2009

Wanderlust.

wanderlust
: a very strong or irresistible impulse to travel [syn:
wanderlust, itchy feet]
That's what's going on. I'm trying to run away before winter comes back. The whole thing feels unsatisfying. I feel caged in and useless and boring. Frustrated.

Quantify it, Bridge.

But that's just it. I can't. Travel the world and define yourself. I don't even know where to begin. Start over. I'm too tired. Jolt yourself out of the rut. How do you do that? I'm still the human dishwasher, still making breakfast. Still brushing the dog. Be grateful. Oh, but I am.

I have never taken a single thing in my life for granted. So don't you dare tell me I'm not fortunate for the life I have.

See what I mean? I have no answers. I slip so easy. Work is tough. The market got tight all of the sudden and no one wants the words and so I stop asking. Which is precisely what I shouldn't do. I stop looking after myself and begin to tread the misery waters. Waiting. Watching. Wondering.

What is the meaning of life?

You've got to be fucking kidding.

This is not my life. My life is flat on my back on the beach. Hot sand and a rough towel. Drops of saltwater drying on my pink-brown skin. Hair curled into ringlets from the swim. Squinty eyes with the sunglasses as a hairband. My super-white teeth exposed in the widest smile you've ever seen. The best book I have ever read, a bottle of Pop Shoppe pop in Lime Rickey and a bag of salt & vinegar chips. No distractions, no interruptions. Just the roar of the relentless ocean breeze in my ears and the sun baking me silly. Life will somehow punctuate those times because it always does, but that will be my grounding point.

I don't have a grounding point at present. Somewhere over the past few years, I went a little crazy, you see and now I'm trying to figure out the easiest way back but I was never very good with directions. I don't hear so well either so when you told me I probably never even realized it.

That's okay. The point is waiting for me. There will always be a beach towel I can grab and a good book to read and someday I'll get there and be calm because there won't be a before the beach history or an after the beach future. It will just become an endless moment. Time will stop, you see. When I tell it to.

I have a feeling it's going to be when I die.