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...so, it seems like i've been rolling, ever since. through rain-slicked, lightning-strobed highways, last night. a waterfall, today. the most interesting, mind-sticking impression of the past few days involves this place where i grew up, and still has my stuff... the unspoken pretension, being the uprightness and self-righteousness of a historied area. can't see the forest for the trees, it appears. a short trip to the neighboring town where i spent some harrowing months living (police-suicide-drugs-depression... not my own) and five years working was not what was expected. since i left the job, eons ago, i've made a pointed effort to avoid the area like it was a nuclear waste dump. too. much. history. Miss Jane mentioned that she'd passed some marathon guides in a new gourmet grocery (which should have been an impossibility), but there it was... the proprietress, a lively and musically inclined lady from ElPaso. hey, they had wasabi peas... they found the way to my heart, right damned quick. adjoining, a not-painfully expensive upscale restaurant. yes, things have changed there. the low-angled sunshine was warm, the breeze possessing enough nip to call for an extra layer... but i wasn't content with short trips. it became a colour hunt. more to be found in the mountains... ...yet another haunt from another time. maybe it would have been a better idea to avoid the tourists (that "leafer madness" bit from yesterday is a local term for out-of-towners who travel here for the changing of the trees), but lo and behold, aside from the scenery, we found a kick-ass little store with a monster beer selection. belgian in moonshine country... and foreign spices. and hippies and punkers. this place, too has shed its old skin. not so, home. returning, it resembled a shell... like a hollywood-set-town. facade without substance. heads swiveling inside cars to get a better look at me, suspiciously... and i'm from here. the time will come when i won't look back, when the time comes to leave this place. as the family tree withers, the roots are coming unentangled. progress seems to lie elsewhere. |
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