january. 01. 02
the road, the road. escape. freedom. my ideal seems to be my having the courage to head west, in my jeep, on my own steam. But I linger at the crossroads. Hell, I've lingered so long I've actually established a frigging city, it would seem. Immobilized? paralyzed? Dense? Jesus. Well, much frustration but that would get into the 'drama' of it and that is usually a distorting lens, wrong turn, dead end. So, the actuality is, that I seem to be in stasis? I simply do not know which next step to take. Assuming I'd be brave enough to take it. Given up? Closer to the truth. Seperated from passion. Yes. Very much. Passion, be it anger or desperation, or.......love , is a necessary fuel. I'm out.
And i follow a pattern. The 'vicarious vice', were i to name it, is apt enough. I tend to live life thru others, vicariously experiencing the world far removed from the actual sensation/experience of it. Quite safe. I love the road? Well, I'm a chauffeur. Tasting scintillating morsels of LIFE via the very alive people who pass behind me, in the back seat, faces hidden by shadows. "Yes sir, you have a home in Europe as well? Awesome sir."...... Pathetic. Amusing. I watch thru the rear view mirror the parade of lives that I'll never live. A vice this is. I conclude. Safe and warm and comfortable but ultimately a dead end ( to belabor the road metaphor)