Farewell, remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good.
-John Milton, Paradise Lost (bk. IV, l. 108)
You know, it's not that I'm unhappy here. It's just that I am inherently stir-crazy. I am a gypsy. I was a born traveler. My father was an army brat born literally on the beaches of the Philippines. He grew up, went to the army, then traveled the world and the US as a musician and jack-of-all-trades during gaps in lucrative musical opportunities. It's no wonder I am how I am- look at him.
I've moved and gone on trips for as far back as I can remember. We were always moving somewhere else, for some other reason. I never had a problem with it though. Of course I was upset like any kid would be, having been moved and severed friendships a few times in a few years. But I knew I had to take it in stride because that's just how things were.
Funny enough, I'm now a complete contradiction when it comes to moving and forming relationships, and the types of places I seek out. I love being anonymous-love being just another face in the crowd. I loathe small towns with nothing to do for fun (nothing bar or music related, I mean). However, I feel superb on a stage and in front of hundreds or thousands of people, and I actually enjoy having a social 'network'. I just don't care. I love the hustle and bustle of a big city where no one knows your name, but I don't really care if everyone knows my name. It's a preference thing I guess.
Ugggh. The joys and simultaneous pitfalls of smoking pot-digressing to the point of indifference about one's original intent. Sigh.
I just need to get the hell away for awhile. A weekend, a month, a year, forever. Whatever. Change it up, life! Charge into the china shop and break that shit!
The most appropriate word for my vibe lately is 'electric,' and that's just how I feel. There are thousands of words more eloquent and surely more engrossing than that one, but it's the one that sticks out. And feeling so electric, I feel like I need to be around energy that matches my own-energy that's at once chaotic and peaceful, vibrating with the night and the pulse of the city then riding low on an El with coffee as the sun rises in front of me. My god, the visuals in my head right now are so vivid. I can smell the grit of the concrete, the diesel in the air. I can feel the haze on my skin and the dewy touch of early morning humidity-the shock of cool air against moist skin. I hear the horns, alarms, shouts, wheels..the hum and clack of iron and steel of trains and the smell of water not far.
I have a lifelong, torrid affair with the city. But I always love the way I feel the morning after.