lost traveler.

i am feeling compressed. it's as if i am a drawer crammed full of old sweaters. i'm watching the bonds that were always assumed as good for a lifetime fall apart. or, in fact, i have already watched them unravel. my head is spinning from the constant activity of work, school, and a social calender. i have a magazine that needs to get to print. i have a job i need to be showing up for in a different part of the state. i'm inches away from just letting it all spill out. from letting my lips part in an unholy scream. there is something shifting inside of me. for the last several months i have felt an easy contentedness which has quickly left me as of late. i am starting to feel as though i am much smaller, that we are all so much smaller. it's as if the trees no longer loom dominant over the horizon. there are other worlds, other stars, with other planets, a million light years away. so, then, what does it all really matter? why strive for anything more than a pleasant patch of sunlight on a hillside that you can one day lay down inside. drive the nails in the cedar box, we are all as good as dead. four hours, forty days, or forty years, what is the relevance of anything we strive for when it will all one day turn to dust. the preacher man will tell you to do great works of moral significance to fill the time. toil your own broken hands for others, break your back for those less fortunate. who is the judge of fortune? the men with the weariest souls are often the hardest working, and the vagrant has already soiled his chances at prosperity. the godless will tell you to put your toilings into your name, build a fortune and a reputation that will make your name whisper on the lips of eternity. how is that more than just simply futility? many times when my name has been upon other's lips, i have wanted to hide my face. i have no interest in fame or fortune. i have no interest in a legacy. i crave obscurity. during my wanderings i awoke something deep inside of me that had lain dormant for many preceding months. i awoke the desire to be the unknown traveler. a stray dog down a broken road in the heart of the country. when you become a ghost, you will understand. the ability to float from place to place with no plan, no definition, is the only great freedom in this world. when my bones are still, my thoughts race, searching for anything to get me out of this place. an eastern seaboard or a western coast, anywhere away from this god forsaken prairie. my motivation is gone. my head is hung. today i am a lost traveler.

listening to:
"the last song" - the all-american rejects (s/t)
"no one would riot for less" - bright eyes (cassadega)
"raining in athens" - azure ray (burn and shiver)
"in other words" - ben kweller (sha sha)