Ginger Baker, 1939 – 2019
I decided to leave the house late yesterday. I don’t do that very often, but I’d like to think if I took a different path in life, I’d be a city-bustling, party busting little night owl.
Anyway, I swung into a supermarket to get a bottle of Kombucha — cliché, I know — and the valley voices trickled into my consciousness. I was steadily trying to decide between Toy Story band-aids, or Mickey Mouse band-aids, but I just couldn’t help but listen in to this other shopper’s very irritated, and very loud phone call.
“Oh my God. You’re not. No. So you’re going to steal my car. Shit. So You know. I went outside. Like. Checking to see if. And. Yeah, my car wasn’t there. So, I just moved here. I don’t have a car. I’m just trying to get a job, and, like… she just met this dude. She was crying because he had overdosed, and I’m like. Why the hell are you crying for that?”
This went on for the entirety of my shopping… experience. Suddenly, I had a valley voice. Like, for real?
Listen to this song, and you’ll know what I mean — It brought me memories of this: https://weerdscience.bandcamp.com/track/evil-genius
Sometimes, I’m glad I’ve aged the way I have. I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot, but my life is simply undramatic. Sure, I’m only a single slip in the bathroom away from being senile, and I’m probably AARP’s youngest recruit, but at least I’m not whatever the heck that phone call was. Life-Alert, here I come!
Anyway, it’s like 9:00am now, so I need to go mow the lawn. It’s not too early for that right?
Well, you know what they say — when one door closes, another one opens. I’m not much of a movie buff, but right now I feel like Forrest Gump, sitting alone after Jenny, his lover, takes off. The clock in the kitchen counts off the seconds, and its thunder feeds my sense of hunger and impatience. It’s not just the heartbreak, it’s the uncertainty.
I want change, but I’m too afraid to have it. The power’s all mine, but I wish it wasn’t.
And before I start to sound like the hapless narrator from The Wonder Years, allow me to explain: I’m running out of time!
Now, I’m about as fickle as your five-day forecast, but when I sit down and reflect on the life that I’ve lived, I feel mostly incomplete. I know things can’t be perfect, and they never will, but when was the last time I really wanted something, and I made it happen?
For this reason, I’m setting a date. I don’t know what it is, but let’s just say it’s ten years from now. October 2nd, 2029. That’s the date I’m giving myself to get the heck out of here. Three thousand, six hundred, and fifty-three days left. That’s a lot, right? I should be able to get my shit together before then.
And no, I’m not imprisoned or anything, but this state I’m from is basically the same thing.
Yes, I dream free of the West. I want to wake up to the mountains, and the crickets that decorate the dawn.
Look, I get it. I’m lucky. I’m so lucky. It’s raining out, and I’m not wet. It’s cold out, but I’m not cold. I’m not hungry. I have a toilet, and when I flush it, I don’t have to worry about where it all goes afterwards. I have a good life. But I’m missing something.
I used to write a lot, but I’ve taken a long break. That break is now over. I’ll get situated here — get a weekly schedule/routine down. I want to start writing my book before the end of the year. We’ll see where it all goes. It’s crazy. Those are two phrases I say all too often.
Today, one door closed. I haven’t found that other open door yet — I’m still stuck in the hallway. All I see are stairways to unknown places, and it’s all so crazy. We’ll see where it all goes.