Dec 7, 2024
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These roots run rampant. I think the entire caravan agrees that we've found something very special in New Orleans. Another kindred city that has sustained and survived cataclysm, and a vacuum of resources. It blows my mind to thing that it would take at least six million dollars to repave the roads in NOLA, yet the mayor of Baltimore spent exactly that much to get new helicopters to patrol the ghettoes in my back yard. Maybe money can't buy happiness, but evidently the subjective definition of safer streets is still contingent upon it. It's hard to believe this city looking more like a war zone than what the ninth ward currently appears to be, ten years after Katrina. The DIY oriented anti-establishment attitude here has stolen my heart in ways I have not felt since I first set foot in Baltimore. It's a golden blend of ratchet optimism that operates on a 24 hour basis, come hell or high water. It's no exaggeration when I say we were all speechless on our first day out.
Once again, here's to new friends, old, and a road paved with broken hearts upon every goodbye.
Some thoughts on reconnecting
I have a string of theories regarding the friends and memories we make. One, we remember more than we know by way of collective consciousness… kind of like how coastal redwoods grow with shallow roots, in a communal system. This allows us centuries to develop, with the flexibility to sway in wind and inclemency. When we maintain our connected roots, we increase our chances of thriving. Two, by law of attraction, we are bound to meet the same people in different incarnates everywhere we go. That birds of a feather thing. The more honest we are with ourselves, and others, the more easily identifiable our good and bad habits become. Let's take this to another level of hokey. On one of our last days in Richmond, I was sharing breakfast with Diane. I was drinking coffee, she had her beer. Diane is a special breed of empath, who has the ability to travel into the dreams of others. She's also spent a great deal of time recovering memories of her past lives. She informed me that morning of a phenomenon where those roots I mentioned before transcend lifetimes. This theoretical phenomenon goes as far as what I will refer to as "meet me at Montauk" incidents, where arrangements might be made that on a particular day, at a particular time, paths will cross and a particular exchange will be made that triggers refreshing stream of consciousness. I like to think that in uprooting myself from Baltimore, I am actually becoming more connected with my roots. Certainly, it's interesting to introduce Justine to people from my past. It's as though she gets to recover puzzle pieces that grant access to a clearer picture of who I have been, who I have, and who I commiserate with.
A Farewell
January 9th
"CASSIS! I miss you! YOU need to come see me!" Justine’s voice makes me smile. Alone for the weekend I decided to call her and see if I could come hangout. I was having a beginning of the year meltdown attempting to figure out who I was, what I wanted to do with my life, where am I going, etc we all know the drill. I knew an evening with Justine would perk me right up, because that is what she does.
Justine and I have been friends since 2010, and our unlikely friendship is completely symbiotic in nature. I live logically, while Justine feels life, she follows the energy and flow of the universe. When we’d tackle a problem together she will often pry the window open while I’ll find an unlocked door. The beauty of it is sometimes we walk through the door, but sometimes she proves that the window is more inspired. We connected in a painting class because she was the only one who loved my dead mice still life and soon became inseparable. I would spend all hours at her apt, climbing the gate to the building and trudging the 5 stories to her rooftop studio. It was cozy and I felt at home amoung her clutter. We would work late into the night, and in the morning I would be there to get her up for class. we gave each other life advice, she got me drunk for the first time, and was with me while I pined after my first Love.
"I am moving to California at the end of the month!" She tells me over the phone, This hits me hard, see, I have been haunted by stop and go plans to move to Cali for the last year. I knew that Justine was also making the same plans, and just as I saw mine disappear one of my best friend’s tells me she is gonna make it. The long and short of why I won’t move yet is that my partner’s company wants to expand and move us to Cali, but last year they promised us we would be there by the end of the 2014 and then they told us the end of 2016, after I had quit my job and we began to make plans to move.
I immediately drove to Baltimore to see Justine. I knew that she would make me feel better, and encourage me. As we talked she told me that I should come on the trip with her. I could fly home whenever I wanted, or I could work with her in San Francisco until the summer, whatever I wanted. You know those moments where you can see the choices clearly? that moment when you know if you go one direction your life will change forever? I spent the night with her and the next day after getting delicious buns from our regular place I went home. All weekend I was in the throws of an emotional breakdown, attempting to figure out where my heart really was. Was it in California, the land of imaginary opportunity? Or was it with my partner; building a life with him, where ever that might be?
It didn’t take me very long to figure out what I truly wanted. Brandon and I talked a lot over the next few days. And ultimately we figured out a way for me to have it both ways… Brandon had to say to me over and over again. "Babe if you want to go on the the trip, just go. I think that it will be really good for you, don’t worry about money. and whenever you are ready to come home we will get you a plane ticket." After much consideration I made the necessary arrangements. And the rest is history, or rather, there are posts about what happened next.
February 1st
When I returned to Frederick from Pittsburgh something inside me had changed. and I will probably never be able to pinpoint how it happened. I had been feeding my wanderlust for over a year. So much so that I refused to really connect with people and I refused to get involved in the art community around me. I refused to do anything that felt like settling. much to the frustration of my parents and peers around me I am sure. since 2013, I had been attempting to make moving plans, and was continuously forced to push the date to the future. But after Pittsburgh I knew that my wanderlust was completely gone. suddenly I was excited to join the ceramic studio, maybe even sell some pieces. Suddenly I was more than ok with living in Frederick or anywhere for that matter. I had no connection to California or deep need to go there anymore. I felt freed from some self induced prison.
Brandon told me that I should still go on the road trip because it would be an amazing adventure, but that if I truly did not want to continue that I did not have to. I decided to keep going.
February 10th
Its getting close to the middle of February and we are still in Richmond. In my perfect world I had assumed that I would be flying home from San Francisco next week and as I look at the calendar and realize that we could be on the road for another three weeks before we reached California. I feel like being here in Richmond is my last chance to turn back and go home before I will need to ship my effects back and get on a plane. If I continued on the road trip but really couldn’t make it another week I would need to fly home, and I would need to ship my art supplies home. I have plans and engagements waiting for me in Frederick next week that I don’t want to cancel…. Brandon, ever my rock, listened to my reasoning. "I think that you still need to go on the trip, when I went on tour it wasn’t perfect but it wouldn’t have given it up" "But, what kind of time will I have if I spend the entire trip just waiting until I can come home? I am thrilled about living in Frederick now and I really want to start building something." "I will come get you if that is what you want, but I don’t want you to have any regrets." "Its ok babe, I think I have found something I love more than traveling." I called my dad looking for advice and I got it. He told me it sounded like I wanted to come home and that was ok. I thanked him for putting up with me when I ignored his advice and he replied that if I needed him he would come and pick me up….
So that is that, it is time for me to go home. I love Justine and I am super grateful for the opportunity to check out of my life for a while and see how the other half lives. Brandon picked me up and we headed back home. <3
Guided by instinct through the enigma of life, To endure with patience the jumble of facts, a strange surprise with stunning sense driven by nobility of purpose Like a man of iron, with superb command no limit of endurance upon thee placed, the miracle of all miracles To proceed with speed and natural charm, an insight into truth, founded on fact We transform into beauty leaving behind the ravages of time glowing with happiness a resolve into nothingness an outburst of tears to dissolve and disappear the phantom years.
"The Biker" Greg
This widened consciousness is no longer that touchy, egotistical bundle of personal wishes, fears, hopes and ambitions which has always to be compensated or corrected by unconscious counter-tendencies; instead, it is a .... relationship to the world of objects, bringing the individual into absolute, binding and indissoluble communion with the world at large
Jung
"Dude! Our trip should be like ‘Thelma and Louise’ meets ‘Daisies’," I joked.
The GPS directs me to make a right… two seconds after I needed to make the turn. I hate country roads. I hate faulty GPS more. No worries, I’ve driven a ‘97 Civic before. I can make a hard right. I downshift, as I barely hang the turn.
"Yeah! Let’s drive the cars over the grand canyon!"
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhh… nope."
Fuck. I’ve overcompensated. Story of my life. I try to turn the vehicle away from the ice, but I’m too late. The guard rail, and a speed limit sign are token casualties of my delirium driven decision making, as I am propelled another hundred feet downhill into snow and mud. As if anyone needs a speed limit sign on these roads… ask the officer that filed the report, I couldn’t exactly tell you how fast I was going (though I did continue to downshift, and put the car in neutral in the midst of the maelstrom). I guess that dinner for three is going to be a dinner for two. I hope they don’t mind. I probably should have told someone I would have felt more comfortable with someone else navigating. I probably should have told them I wouldn’t be back until late, and I would see them in the morning. I probably shouldn’t have ran on fumes for so long before getting behind the wheel of an unfamiliar car for a 4 hour solo journey. I probably should have spent more time practicing behind the wheel of a manual transmission before undertaking this trip. I probably shouldn’t be so hard on myself. The past is the past. I can’t un-wreck the car. On the other hand, I’ve devoted myself to the long term legacy of becoming a living work of art, and this is definitely the most beautiful wreckage that Sewickley has ever seen. I’ve formally reinterpreted the ending of Thelma and Louise, and inverted it. No take-backs. Some say stories are best when they begin at the end. Some say a great story begins with a spectacle. Some don’t seem to give a damn, and believe that the best pitch is short and sweet, with strong reference to pop culture context. Ergo… if I’m this season’s Louise, and this is how my journey begins, this can’t be the worst way to perform my opening act. Certainly seems to cover all the bases; the end of the beginning, the destructive debacle, the uncanny resemblance to a schema of rebellious/anarchic women in cinema. Living out loud as certain repercussions.
Mercury Retrograde: 2, Wolf-Cat: 1
Damn it, Mercury.
