Oftentimes my training is the only thing that would save me from a tedious, squalid evening like tonight. The difference, ironic as it is, is that, rather than being barricaded in an expensive hotel room by enormous quantities of snow, Im relaxing in bed less than a few miles from the bustling, quaking metropolis that is downtown. To my friends, this is asinine. Im 25, they'd remind me quizically. I should be out partying! My life is speeding by me, and Im letting it slip through my fingers like a cloud of hazy smoke. Fortunately, Im over all of that for awhile. This isnt some lecture that will devolve into pretentious ostentatiousness. Im not going to demonize people for going out, spending egregious amounts of money for entrance to overhyped clubs, and hooking up freely and widely. Theres nothing wrong with that life. I fucking love that life, but priorities change and shift suddenly, as world shatteringly as tectonic plates. Make no mistake, when I arrive at my new home, as I acquaint myself with the surroundings and take in the area, I will undoubtedly go out and experience the nightlife. But, to be perfectly honest, the point of it all right now escapes me. I go out to have fun with my brothers, yes, but, lets not kid ourselves. The primary purpose has always been to meet women, and since Im quite content in that department for the forseeable future, I can take solace in the fact that my wallet wont be unnecessarily emptied of money in the pursuit of momentary, hollow pleasure.
It perturbs me a bit to admit that the idea of spending a lazy, quiet evening at "home" is quite foreign to me at this point in my life. A vagabond by nature and a drifter by necessity of lifestyle, Ive essentially lived out of a duffelbag and backpack for the past 4.5 years. So tonight, as the faint choral echo of chirping crickets serenades me and a light wind tickles my face as it deftly permeates my mesh window guard, I am unmistakably comfortable. It makes me reminisce about times in my life where lodging wasnt so hard to come by, when a night or two of privacy didnt automatically carry a relatively hefty price tag. I didnt share a room with anybody but my books, guitars and thoughts. As far removed as those memories are for me now, I can feel an inkling of familiarity begin to trickle through the cracks in my guarded demeanor. Truth is, I like life on the road, it suits me, although "on the road" can be quite a pliable description. Whether powering through the seas or soaring through the air, entombed in a haze grey dumpster or sequestered like a sardine in commercial, I find freedom in floating through life unattached. In everything from my workout habits to my diet, Ive realized that everything, consciously or not, has been tailored towards a minimalistic, Spartan lifestyle. Whether it's who I am or who I've become is irrelevant, because it's me. Pure, unvarnished and bare. Free.
Tonight baby, when Ive rescued you from the clutches of service, where shall we go? The fondest memories of the past few years involve pointing at a mountain, steeling our resolve, and heading off in that direction, giggling giddily like schoolchildren. Unencumbered by the shackles of planning, praying that we ended up lost, we ventured forward into uncharted territory. The mementos of those joyous excursions,
tattooed on our skin and radiating from our smiles, propelled us forward, prompting us to take bigger, more enterprising risks. I felt like a pioneer or outlaw cowboy as we drove through idyllic California mountain ranges. The pride and amusement I felt witnessing your eyes light up, as you beheld a lavender sky sinking behind picturesque, snow capped peaks made all the suffering and anguish worth it. Russet sapphires gleaming with the dying blaze of the waning sun pored over the darkening scenery, and as the gleam of the rising, seductive moon danced in my irises, I knew our adventures had just begun.
The thing Ill miss the most about this Earthly paradise is the beaches at night. During midday, when the sun is hanging highest, bathing the world in blistering heat, the sands resemble an amusement park. Families, local and visiting, comb the area for the most aesthetically advantageous spot. Then, from nowhere, the wolves descend. Towels spring forth from the ground itself, cluttering all paths as toddlers fall from the sky, infesting the sidewalks and streets. Forget a morning run, its akin to navigating an annoyingly snide minefield in these conditions. Shriveled old men in speedos, elderly women that, in their one piece swimsuits, resemble the handbags they proudly flaunt, symbols of unearned privilege, and scrawny teenage boys in obnoxiously tight tanktops positively engorge the area, making any movement a nigh impossible task. Sure, there are the ever present nubile girls, scantily clad in lace and string, but eye candy can only do so much to distract from the chaos at hand. In the nocturnal hours however, everything changes. The landscape becomes deserted at first glance, but after some exploration, parties and interesting faculties can be uncovered. Bonfires dot the shoreline, and music can be heard for miles. The feeling of cool, loose granules of sand between my toes will stay with me forever. Late night walks, deep, soulful conversations that satiated the tortured appetite of the continuously intellectually starved, and the poetry birthed, given to the air but never to the page, all combine to form an eternal soliloquy. Blanketed in comfortable shadow, Id rather be at the beach.
This all felt like a timeout from the rigors of real life. After enduring what we had, the constant sailing, threat of violence and internal strife, to decompress in modern Babylonia was a Godsend. No doubt Ill return here, beautiful as it is. But unfortunately, the time has come to take my leave, as it always does. So, with my hand firmly in yours, I step off the pier and run full boar into my new chapter. May the lights shine as brightly in my absence, forever.
It perturbs me a bit to admit that the idea of spending a lazy, quiet evening at "home" is quite foreign to me at this point in my life. A vagabond by nature and a drifter by necessity of lifestyle, Ive essentially lived out of a duffelbag and backpack for the past 4.5 years. So tonight, as the faint choral echo of chirping crickets serenades me and a light wind tickles my face as it deftly permeates my mesh window guard, I am unmistakably comfortable. It makes me reminisce about times in my life where lodging wasnt so hard to come by, when a night or two of privacy didnt automatically carry a relatively hefty price tag. I didnt share a room with anybody but my books, guitars and thoughts. As far removed as those memories are for me now, I can feel an inkling of familiarity begin to trickle through the cracks in my guarded demeanor. Truth is, I like life on the road, it suits me, although "on the road" can be quite a pliable description. Whether powering through the seas or soaring through the air, entombed in a haze grey dumpster or sequestered like a sardine in commercial, I find freedom in floating through life unattached. In everything from my workout habits to my diet, Ive realized that everything, consciously or not, has been tailored towards a minimalistic, Spartan lifestyle. Whether it's who I am or who I've become is irrelevant, because it's me. Pure, unvarnished and bare. Free.
Tonight baby, when Ive rescued you from the clutches of service, where shall we go? The fondest memories of the past few years involve pointing at a mountain, steeling our resolve, and heading off in that direction, giggling giddily like schoolchildren. Unencumbered by the shackles of planning, praying that we ended up lost, we ventured forward into uncharted territory. The mementos of those joyous excursions,
tattooed on our skin and radiating from our smiles, propelled us forward, prompting us to take bigger, more enterprising risks. I felt like a pioneer or outlaw cowboy as we drove through idyllic California mountain ranges. The pride and amusement I felt witnessing your eyes light up, as you beheld a lavender sky sinking behind picturesque, snow capped peaks made all the suffering and anguish worth it. Russet sapphires gleaming with the dying blaze of the waning sun pored over the darkening scenery, and as the gleam of the rising, seductive moon danced in my irises, I knew our adventures had just begun.
The thing Ill miss the most about this Earthly paradise is the beaches at night. During midday, when the sun is hanging highest, bathing the world in blistering heat, the sands resemble an amusement park. Families, local and visiting, comb the area for the most aesthetically advantageous spot. Then, from nowhere, the wolves descend. Towels spring forth from the ground itself, cluttering all paths as toddlers fall from the sky, infesting the sidewalks and streets. Forget a morning run, its akin to navigating an annoyingly snide minefield in these conditions. Shriveled old men in speedos, elderly women that, in their one piece swimsuits, resemble the handbags they proudly flaunt, symbols of unearned privilege, and scrawny teenage boys in obnoxiously tight tanktops positively engorge the area, making any movement a nigh impossible task. Sure, there are the ever present nubile girls, scantily clad in lace and string, but eye candy can only do so much to distract from the chaos at hand. In the nocturnal hours however, everything changes. The landscape becomes deserted at first glance, but after some exploration, parties and interesting faculties can be uncovered. Bonfires dot the shoreline, and music can be heard for miles. The feeling of cool, loose granules of sand between my toes will stay with me forever. Late night walks, deep, soulful conversations that satiated the tortured appetite of the continuously intellectually starved, and the poetry birthed, given to the air but never to the page, all combine to form an eternal soliloquy. Blanketed in comfortable shadow, Id rather be at the beach.
This all felt like a timeout from the rigors of real life. After enduring what we had, the constant sailing, threat of violence and internal strife, to decompress in modern Babylonia was a Godsend. No doubt Ill return here, beautiful as it is. But unfortunately, the time has come to take my leave, as it always does. So, with my hand firmly in yours, I step off the pier and run full boar into my new chapter. May the lights shine as brightly in my absence, forever.