What The..
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What The..
What am I to do, I like to travel, like to visit new places. Planning a trip is time consuming or can be time consuming. I personally try to keep planning out of the equations. I just go to a place, learn about it on the fly, enjoy or not enjoy and go to the next place. I live in a new place, and then live in the next place.
The edges around the middle are getting fat. The distance from here to there is becoming more complicated. I truly do believe what I read by Henry David Thoreau 20 years ago is still true today.
- Simplify -
I receive information into my world.
I want to receive information into my world.
I wish to observe the world.
I am not sure I want information to INVADE my world.
I wish to invade the world.
I wish to create a bigger buffer between me and the information that tries to invade my world. It is like a guard at the door of a some local disco, he checks Identification, looks the person in the eyes, give them the once over, tries to determine if they have a weapon, in a worst case scenario, he will, I suppose it could be she will pat the person down to see if they should enter the bar.
A crazy the other day trying says I am trying to stop freedom of speech, by stopping comments on the blog. I can moderate, I am the unfortunate editor.
This is more blatant invasion of my planet.
I am on the moon, someone calls up, do I have to answer the telephone?
I personally am used to answering all calls, I try to answer all emails, in reality it has become impossible to answer all the emails or comments, or to even read all of them.
I need a map to travel.
I want a guide to travel.
Stay the course, keep my eyes on the horizon, choose a spot on the horizon and make a tack for this location. Sort of a dead reckoning for where I wish to go.
I think the prime directive of travel is to remember to enjoy the trip.
I do think the noise is louder, the music is blaring; I am making my way for the door, friends are hollering to stay for just one more. I am leaving, I am traveling, this is the ultimate joy of travel, to leave behind all this is.
Bob Seger, many moons ago told a story to me in University, as me, the Chetster, Stuckman and Ort blared the music, loaded up Maggie the blue van, purchased 12 case of beer at Big Red Liquors, in Bloomington, picked up Oz, Debbie, my sister invade the Tri-Delta house and left for Fort Lauderdale for spring break.
Bob Seger sang,
- Up with the sun, gone with the wind, running when things get me crazy, leaving my friends, leaving my family,
I still here the raspy voice, like the sound of Johnny Cash as the Folsom Prison blues hears the train.
We or me, you and I, we must listen to our own drummer, however measured and far away.
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