the planted seed
(blog)
LA isn't for everyone. If you're wealthy or a young person just starting out, LA can be for you. If you're neither, the disparity between yourself and others is the rug that was yanked from under your shoes while staring at the mansions dotting the hills surrounding you.
You pack a couples suitcases, a backpack, your dog, get the oil changed, pick up a friend along the way, and speed across the US from East to West, stepping out into some sort of September heat wave that boils your eyes, while the smoke from a nearby forest fire stings your nose and lungs. The city is always on fire. Discerning whether it's real or staged, well, that's a gift.
One year and five days since the dog and the car and the speeding towards, or rather, away from. In five days, one year after the foot on the ground, the giant leap, September 11. Ominous day. To put roots down. Approximately, three weeks, give or take, until the re-packing and the renting of the apartment to get on the road, step away from the fire and become cool, release anxiety.
Truly, LA is not for everyone. I needed to leave. And LA has welcomed. At least, welcome from those who don't suspect you need something from them. Otherwise, one can't be bothered. This isn't a city of angels, the type of angels who extend helping wings to those struggling. These are the angels who died trying, and now float in some post-corporeal limbo, perched high in palm trees, pelting cars with browned, dry foliage. Even the palm trees are foreigners here.
Begin a list.
What do you enjoy?
writing
outdoors/hiking
travel
cooking
helping others
dogs
reading
teaching
directing plays/performances
Places to explore living?
Eugene, OR
Port Townsend, WA
Tacoma, WA
Ireland
Ireland has been calling me for a while. Imagine myself in a cottage by the sea, perhaps, a bed and breakfast, but I'm not sure I want to put in the energy that'd require. I turned 40 by escaping to the mountains, where I isolated in a cabin with dog until I chose to come out. Isolated while hiking, too. Did not isolate to join the 7:30p showing of Logan at the Rustic Theatre, that was indeed, as they advertised. This was the singular showing of the day. Dark on Mondays, I recall.
To mix for the happy life... a travel writer. Sounds lovely.
Eugene, Oregon is one of the queerest towns in the US?! Hmmph. So says The Advocate. How interesting. Josh suggests Port Townsend and Whidbey Island. Not sure how terribly remote I'd like to dive, but then again, Ireland isn't around the corner. Ireland is more of an end game, a place to go to live it out, finish it off, so to speak.
I'm a seeker. Designating October, Seeker Month. Shoes back in the car, to the pedal, drive right out of town, make moves up the coast and window shop. I won't know it until I see it. I thought I saw it, but I didn't really see it. Not really.
LA isn't for everyone. If you're wealthy or a young person just starting out, LA can be for you. If you're neither, the disparity between yourself and others is the rug that was yanked from under your shoes while staring at the mansions dotting the hills surrounding you.
You pack a couples suitcases, a backpack, your dog, get the oil changed, pick up a friend along the way, and speed across the US from East to West, stepping out into some sort of September heat wave that boils your eyes, while the smoke from a nearby forest fire stings your nose and lungs. The city is always on fire. Discerning whether it's real or staged, well, that's a gift.
One year and five days since the dog and the car and the speeding towards, or rather, away from. In five days, one year after the foot on the ground, the giant leap, September 11. Ominous day. To put roots down. Approximately, three weeks, give or take, until the re-packing and the renting of the apartment to get on the road, step away from the fire and become cool, release anxiety.
Truly, LA is not for everyone. I needed to leave. And LA has welcomed. At least, welcome from those who don't suspect you need something from them. Otherwise, one can't be bothered. This isn't a city of angels, the type of angels who extend helping wings to those struggling. These are the angels who died trying, and now float in some post-corporeal limbo, perched high in palm trees, pelting cars with browned, dry foliage. Even the palm trees are foreigners here.
Begin a list.
What do you enjoy?
writing
outdoors/hiking
travel
cooking
helping others
dogs
reading
teaching
directing plays/performances
Places to explore living?
Eugene, OR
Port Townsend, WA
Tacoma, WA
Ireland
Ireland has been calling me for a while. Imagine myself in a cottage by the sea, perhaps, a bed and breakfast, but I'm not sure I want to put in the energy that'd require. I turned 40 by escaping to the mountains, where I isolated in a cabin with dog until I chose to come out. Isolated while hiking, too. Did not isolate to join the 7:30p showing of Logan at the Rustic Theatre, that was indeed, as they advertised. This was the singular showing of the day. Dark on Mondays, I recall.
To mix for the happy life... a travel writer. Sounds lovely.
Eugene, Oregon is one of the queerest towns in the US?! Hmmph. So says The Advocate. How interesting. Josh suggests Port Townsend and Whidbey Island. Not sure how terribly remote I'd like to dive, but then again, Ireland isn't around the corner. Ireland is more of an end game, a place to go to live it out, finish it off, so to speak.
I'm a seeker. Designating October, Seeker Month. Shoes back in the car, to the pedal, drive right out of town, make moves up the coast and window shop. I won't know it until I see it. I thought I saw it, but I didn't really see it. Not really.
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