Pre Greyhound

One blazingly hot New England summer day I jumped on the first of several Greyhounds that would take me from Boston to San Francisco. The trip took four uncomfortable, dirty, inconvenient, and chaotic days and I will never forget how fascinated I was with the differences in landscape, climate, and people that I observed throughout the journey.

I really have nothing say when asked (by myself in self-reflection and by others in curiosity) why I did it.

Here is something I wrote a day before I got on that bus. It still doesn't answer the question, but it is a vivid reminder of how excruciatingly abstract my motivations could be.


I got no needle & thread.
I got no magic wand.
But I do weave webs.

The only way that I am content is to be floating dead center in a web of reality whose structure I had intricately and obsessively personalized. Such has been so in every city or community I've dwelled in. I've always had a VIP pass to my reality; no it didn't come for free-it was and is a result of my web-weaving. Some may call it schemes and manipulations, but towards what? Schemes and manipulations produce money, sex, and power. The three things I am most intimidated by.

I need to weave my own little ShitShow, where I enjoy the benefits and privileges of Those Who Call The Shots without having to bear with the pain of Calling The Shots, Aiming The Shots, And Shooting The Shots.

I aim to personify the term "extra-hierarchical", where I can and do exist alongside the hierarchy/ies, past and present.

You see, I can't quite be King Arthur, anyone on his Round Table, nor any of his subjects. I must be Merlin, subject of none and ruler of only his own little reality.

And when does this end?

When my web of reality is patched up, deformed, and groaning with the weight , it must be put to sleep while it's still whole.

I refuse to watch it get dessicated and fed to the vultures. It must quit before it gets fired. Like I did. No looking back, no visiting the gravesite even.

Only the memories I bring to the new venue; it's really the only way to preserve the most valuable parts of the exiting reality, the only method of keeping the volume crisp.

Chasing an impossible dream? Bullshit. It's possible because I've built a couple....and boy, what a dream THAT was. I lived it.

Destination SFO.