But I met up with some hipsters who are letting me use their Internet. One guy, Jeremiah, said not having web access is so 2003. I laughed and laughed. Then I punched him. Now we’re BFFs, and he said it was rad how I gave him street cred!
I want to go home.
Sometimes, things feel so fragile. All I see and touch, all the atoms and other particles that make up my life feel like things that could be riven by one careless wind gust. I feel scared. I feel helpless for what might happen.
On a vacation, there are no atoms and particles to worry about, because none of it is yours. It’s all new, fresh, people and places that exist independent of your existence. You leave, but they will stay. They’ll keep jamming at bonfires, waxing eloquent over the evils of capitalism, starting barroom brawls, being assholes and having these beautiful, effortless moments of just being, and you will miss all of it. You’ll be home. You’ll be having your own beautiful moments
but they might not seem that way, because you’re so close to it all. It’s too familiar, and it’s become dull in its familiarity. It loses any magic it might have had. When you see something every day, you take for granted that it’s there, will always be some fixture to the background of your life.
That’s why I like coming home. Everything becomes pure and whole and for a while isn’t so goddamn fragile. I feel alive. Like I am living. Like this is my life, maybe just the life of a humble podcast, but it is mine and it is good. Things will be OK.
See you soon, man.