Rhode Island

I’m exhausted. Exhausted by all of the nothing that is happening. So much nothing. It’s endless. This nothingness.

I am at a loss for words to describe all of this negative space I occupy. The only thing that feels different are the clouds hovering above this space I occupy. Right now they are gray and blue and white and orange and quite thick and rich and deep. Thank you, clouds.

Somebody just told me in an email how lucky I am to spend the summer in Rhode Island. Why have I never experienced this as anything but exile… as a place that is not L.A. or NYC or Minneapolis or Chicago or Seattle or San Francisco?

And now I’m about to leave.

I feel foolish that I haven’t experienced it.

I can blame it on my work schedule and how lazy I was when I was not at my job or commuting for 3 hours 5 days/week. And being a vegetable on weekend.

And then when it came time to not blame my job, it was only because I lost it at the onset of the pandemic. Which is when I grew afraid to leave my apartment, even to walk down the hallway to take out the trash.

And then I could blame it on rehab from hip replacement surgery and a fractured foot which is all legitimate.

But it feels like a personal failure that I not risen above any of that.

In the meantime, time has not paid any attention to my nothingness.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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