I decided quickly. I guess it was the rain that did it, the interesting kind that comes in summer and rises from the pavement like invoked spirits after death. I want more than what's in my head. I want to see it, see this, words that swirl and move more than the floatings of thoughts. Sitting here, I realize that I am a victim of narcissism. I guess, in a way, we all are. I just admit it, and keep writing, because I think I have to.
I have moved to Austin and am committed to trying to live in one place, for a whole year. I haven't done this since 2006, so you can imagine how my feet move, even when I think the seat feels nice. But maybe this is good, maybe it is human to want to settle. But, then again, I'm an American, aren't I? John Steinbeck new this, and he allowed us our travelling, because it is our heritage to keep plowing onward. Maybe, just up ahead, there will be an ocean, and what if I spent my whole life smelling salty air without seeing the whipped spine of the sea? That, dear Shakespeare, takes all the tragedy you ever had, and trumps it like an earthquake.
People in Austin are dying to be unique, when in reality, the most unique thing in the world is not the death, but the birth. So I hope I have been reborn, baptized in the simmering water of the Green Belt, because I wish to be extraordinary. I believe we all do, and can't feel whole until we stand-out in a way that lets us be remembered.
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