Friday, October 4, 2013

Onwards and a Bit About this Blog

It’s been a full lunar cycle since my little stroll came to a close. The one along the Appalachian Trail (the trail that eats its young...and old). My feet are still sore. Still and sore. Too sore, still, to walk barefooted on anything harder than a padded wrestling mat. I wrestle with this daily, now forced to wear thick, squishy shoes everywhere I head except for bed, where the only thing I sport is a strap-on dildo, but never mind that. I’ve even been left with no choice but to don a cheap pair of foamy flip-flops when in the shower, brief though those rinses may be.

Most this is normal.


What’s not normal for me is to be back in a much crazier world--society, we call it; Denver, specifically--after walking for five-plus months through the serene scene that is the Appalachian Mountains. I feel like an impostor in this default world, lying to myself. I’m trying to cope--not adapt--but it is an unfair fight, for I am alienated and outnumbered. The truth is I’m not endowed with the necessary coping mechanisms to accept American society for what it is, or what it’s becoming: unbecoming. And so, as it tends to, my fight-or-flight response has veered back toward flight. Still no more.

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will...
~Robert Service

Since I know no hearts to break, I’ve already obtained a one-way airline ticket to upstate NY. It was to there I wired the necessary funds for a new/used motorbike--sight unseen--upon which I plan to ride across the country the remainder of this month and into the next one, conditions cooperating. A decompression party. Naturally, I’ll go out of my way and stop to pay homage to the AT when I cross it, since it left me feeling crossed many times. (Spit? Piss? Crap? Drain my engine’s oil?) My friend Ruth and I have also made reservations for a round-trip flight to Central America. I wasn’t allowed to book a one-way international ticket--the bastards--but I may very well only use half the scheduled flights, before walking and hopping trains north. Or south. Patagonia?

In any case, old habits die hard and the adventure lingers. The beat don’t stop; the feet don’t stop. A continual disappearing act, I am bored by sameness. Routine is the death of the soul! This behavior’s all a bit impetuous perhaps, but re-entry, as we thru-hikers (we naturalized citizens) know it, is especially tough on me. The Return to Civilization!, the second sequel, starring the wanderer. (To the wanderer travel is a homecoming, an itch that must be scratched.) I am a nowhere man and while I may be nowhere near the trail, I’m still on it. Homesick for somewhere I’ve never been, I miss being elsewhere, always.

I miss being elsewhere, always. The travelers credo. Longing to be long gone. Destination isolation.

“I haven’t been everywhere,” said Susuan Sontag, “but it’s on my list.”

“There was nowhere to go but everywhere,” wrote Kerouac.

“Without end,” wrote Funnybone!

~~~~~~~~~~

A Bit About this Blog…

1: It is entirely waterproof.
2: May be unsuitable for some (or all) viewers. Enter at your own risk.
3: Dont take anything I say seriously; I dont. (I am merely nearly sincerely.) Mileage may differ, timing may differ, I may differ.
4: Except in the instance above Funnybone! never refers to himself in the third person.
5: This is not a tale of personal growth, except when I mention my boner.

Also, because we all despise salespeople, there are no sales pitches or ads here.

Elsewhere, because this site’s host (Blogger) publishes all posts in chronological order, the newest, latest posts (i.e., this very one and Maine) appear on this web log first, before my initial journal entries (introduction; pre-trip; Georgia genesis) do. This basically means that my journal appears in reverse order, which is not most people’s preferred way of reading an account, since--spoiler alert!--we know what happens before we know what happened. This assumes, of course, that there are any readers willing victims other than myself.

I’d originally thought of back-dating all entries in a reverse-chronological order to overcome this little hassle, so the story reads from the first entries to the last, as it should. But because this is the Internet, it’s just as easy to click ‘Newer Posts’ on the bottom left of each page, after starting the reading from DAY 1, and so I’ve left Blogger’s default setting as it is.

Perhaps a much easier way to read each entry in order is via the drop-down menu, plainly visible on the right-hand side of this site (sorry blind readers, but Blogger doesn’t offer their services in Braille just yet). Thankfully this drop-down menu begins with the first day of the hike on the top of the list and works its way downward in simple fashion. I have since removed most pre-hike entries, for they added nothing to the narrative. And although I nearly believe in nothing--a part-time nihilist--it is perhaps best to have something to think or write. For if nothing else, it helps to keep one occupied.

My spud-boy plates and newly expired registration
Please note that this is a Kardashian-free website and I will not accept their family name into this blog. If you are a Kardashian, I am truly sorry. I also no longer publish reader comments(1), because I don’t generally like what people have to say, particularly unkind folk, of whom the world knows no shortage. I apologize to any kind readers (if any) who might consider this a major inconvenience, but I assure you: it’s nothing like the major inconvenience that the trail is.

And so, if, for whatever reason, this journal inspires anyone to grab his or her backpack and head out to hike the Appalachian Trail, I suggest rereading it in detail.


"Foot"note 1: If you'd like to get a hold of me, to express your anger for example, you will have to do so by smoke signal, I'm afraid. 

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