Upstate NY, USA
July 11, 2007
“A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.”
-Jorge Luis Borges
I do not understand how people can stand living in the USA full time. It is expensive, you need a motor vehicle to work in most places, and there are hassles on top of hassles at every turn. It is funny for me to realize how hard life is here. You must work your whole life away even to squeak by on the meekest existence. Things are much harder living here (or anywhere for that matter) than travelling in even the most difficult country. I think that sedentist are also always travelling; though they travel through the hoops of their own sedentation: car-insurance, bills, telephones, friend and family expectations, lovers, pets, work, rather than countries. Sometimes I think that I travel just to be away from all of this. I truly respect anyone who sticks this life out. It is far too easy to run away.
When on the road it is just me and maybe a travel companion every once in a while. I have nothing nor want anything. Life is simple. I can think and read and walk, and I am usually not impeded by anyone. I am as free as I can imagine freedom being. I cherish this feeling.
I leave for Boston on Sunday to begin my work for the season. I am back working the Archaeology for a company called Northern Ecological Associates. I swore that last season would be my last, as I did the year before. All Archaeologist do this every year……but the season comes and we all find ourselves out in the woods with a shovel in our hands.
Excavation unit at Driftstone in Pennsylvania.
I think that I am going to begin a website today. I will post the address on here as soon as it is up. I do not have much time, as I have to leave Upstate NY in a couple of days for the month long project. When I return, I will probably be very busy preparing to go to Turkey. I do not know what exactly draws me to Turkey, I know nothing of the country- except I sometimes find myself singing a song that goes “Its Istanbul not Constantinople. . . ” Other than this I do not know why I am going there. I do not know why I go anywhere. I guess I go just to not be here.
. . just to not be anywhere. . . and yet, be everywhere at the same time.