When I moved out west a year ago I had no idea that would begin my detour de force. It's strange how persistent we are in our useless sideways sprint, like stubborn old trunks jealous of the branches. I don't know why I hate the soil under my feet, but I do. I hate the roots perpetually sprouting from the balls of my feet, eager and ready to latch and take shape wherever I stand.
I always surprise myself with how good I am at fronting the illusion of progress. I may be a hamster, but I'm the fastest wheel-runner in three counties. I've taken and passed classes, and I've read the right books, but somehow I'm just now arriving exactly to where I left myself 18 months ago.
Things have changed though. I have new glasses now. They're pretty sweet. I wear more of my brother's clothes, and I'm 100 pages further in Moby Dick than I was 2 years ago at this time. I've written some shit, read graphic novels like an art form, and I've started/abandoned/restarted this blog to nowhere. More things have stayed the same. I'm dating the girl I used to. I'm living at home again. Same bed, same house, same friends, SOS etc. My music tastes have changed, or evolved. Ultimately though, my only accomplishments of which to note since 18 are only pitifully connected to my progression as a professional consumer. I read, watch, and listen to better things. I devour media of a higher quality, and somehow this makes me a better person. I've chased and tackled the cultural canon and stripped from him the rigidly sharp slew of refined talking points with which I impress my friends. I've purchased for myself rounds of applause in a time in my life when I contribute absolutely nothing at all to anything of value.
I suppose life will be grand when I get there, but for now I find I'm growing callous in my personal fears as my roots tangle and knot along the surface of the bedrock. I've been in this place for too long, pedaling away at my stationary bike and half expecting motion. If I just read this one more book, or watch this last critically praised television program, then maybe I'll glean the truth I've been absentmindedly groping for these past few years. Maybe, but probably not. Definitely not, actually, but this has served its purpose. It's been 72 minutes, and Megavideo awaits on the next tab over. Peace.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment