April 25, 2003
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ooo, angst…..
…..Wanderlust strains against my sense of place.
I’ve been reading Abbey again, up a tree in the sun in the arboretum, and it makes me want to untangle myself from my roots and take flight in the desert air. Walk into the drizzly urban night with headphones on, take a bus to a strange town, get in the Jeep and go.
“Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary.”
If i have any kind of pretentious stupid angst, its source is this conflict between home and the frontier. My mother calls it roots and wings, and on a daily basis i find the things in my life manifest themselves as one or the other. My father wanders in the desert, my mother stays in the livingroom and watches TV. I fall in love with people who believe in impromptu roadtrips. I long to feel the sand under my toes at my home on the cape. Stay here, go to grad school, teach art? Or streak into New Mexico and live in a studio in Taos? It shows up not only in large things like the plans i make and the people i love, but also in the details of myself- the clothes i wear, the things i read, way i walk, and the crap i carry around in my pockets. i’m not a philosopher, but i’m always looking around and thinking, checking the radar.
Do i stay or do i go? Am i loved? Will i be lonely? Am i afraid? what if, when i get there, it’s just the same? Should i wear jeans or a skirt? who will go with me? What if i’m just borrowing someone else’s destination? What if i’m needed here? What if i’m bored?
Will i ever stop?
i need to go for a walk.
