Too much time breeds conrnfuzzlement.
There's a problem that wanders into the camp of a drifter, when he stays put... in one place... too long... He starts thinkin' too much.
I know what makes my sunrises shine and what makes 'em cloudy. I love... I LOVE... I LOVE ... bein' on the road. I don't particularly like Getting anywhere. As long as I'm moving, on the road, somewhere... I'm easy. Not giggling, goofy happy... Just, Easy.
Lock me down, stagnant in one place... too long... and the sky darkens and gets stormy.
When I get up in a camp on the back side of beyond... or ... stand up from my bed tucked in a corner out on the fringe of a Wally World parking lot, on the way to Beyond... I have that feeling that, HERE, is where and how I belong. "Just a Man, Free on the Earth."
When I'm moving my eyes are roaming and looking, there's no room in my head for second guessing why... I feel good and that's enough.
Now, set the parking brake. Stick the chocks under the wheels and let dust start collecting on the pin box for any length of time... and my dented, damaged, brain pan starts second guessing, and comparing, and scheming. Pretty quick an awful good Plan, and a better WAY is getting twisted into something I can't even recognize and my liver's quiverin' like a $3 hula girl.
One of the sources... No... THE biggest source of the waves being made in the life I live these days, and a lot of folks aspire to, is Economics. It's the big nasty foul smellin' beast that keeps most folks from stepping off and chasing that shining brass ring they've kept secret for too long.
A fella with six zeroes behind the seven in his bank account only has to choose which direction he's gonna turn his radiator when he leaves in the morning.
Those like me... with TWO zeroes, on a good day, behind the 2 in the bank account have to decide how they're gonna put enough diesel in the tank to get out of the parking lot! ;)
I'm not complaining. I'm Free and that's the best thing. Bein' a lil' less worrisome at times wouldn't be a bad thing... but... I get up in the morning and -I- decide what I'm gonna do... each and every day... NOT... some bossman. To tell the truth, we're in a pretty flat situation... no better off, no worse off than a year and more ago... I guess stayin' level is the new "Doin' Good!" ;)
But... Economics is still the big gorilla in the corner. Flat out Ignoring it is gonna let him sneak up and whack you in uncomfortable ways. With a thin wallet... and expenses (Fuel and groceries) rising a lot faster than the statistics mongers on the boob tube claim... (uh... food is up a lot more than the 2 1/2% or so the liars claim inflation is!) a guy has to spend a lil' bit of time thinkin' 'bout how he's gonna ride out the next year...
One of the ways to deal with it, I guess is to set up a situation where you're not moving as much and not knockin' back fifty gallons of diesel a week... there's different ways of doin' that.
I've read and watched other folks. Lots of 'em counsel "You need to have a Home Base"... Thinking on that wise counsel of others, and trying to convince myself that it's the right thing to do... is causing me a bad case of the DT's and the jiggly quivers. Economics is an important thing, and you've got to take care of business... but it's not ALL about the dollars.
It took me a bunch of years, and a lot of torment and misery to fight free from the economic jail that's imposed on a "Property Owner". That's a torment I don't NEVER want to repeat. It's one of the toughest pshyco hurdles for a genetic gypsy to climb over. A man is conditioned from nearly the moment he leaves the safe confines of the womb to get a job, build a house, raise a family, pay your taxes... buy another car...
So... thinking how nice it would be to have a "place" to sit for a while... I could have some of That again... or one of Those or... or ... or.... aeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiii! It is a fearful thing for a fella like me.
It's like a dope addict whose been clean for a year, walking down the street and bumping into his old dealer, who offers him a special deal... just a little taste... a treat!
The addict stands there quiverin'... lusting for that FEELING... just a tast...
But... deep down inside he knows the ugly truth... it's a prison that chains my soul... Yet, it remains a temptation that he can't erase... a temptation he has to deliberately resist, apparently forever.
Now, don't get me wrong... for some people... it's the RIGHT thing. It fits. It makes sense... for others it's the opposite... it's the end of the dream that drags you back into the way it was. The way you detested the whole time you lived in it. It's the tentacles of the beast wrappin' around your ankle and tripping you... You can feel it as your fingers dig into the ground fighting against it, and you're drug back into the hole you fought so hard to escape... nooooooooooooo......
There's other things that rattle around looking for answers... Right now... this seems to be the Bronc I'm trying to ride. Holding to what I know is right for me... against the wind of what so many others claim to know is better.
All they can truly know... if they are honest with them selves... is what is better for THEM.
Which leaves me... Cogitating, second guessing, digging in my Heels... and resisting to the last breath.
Down on the Desert