When I wrote the following pages, I lived alone, in the city only a short few blocks away from my favorite brunch place, in an apartment I rented on my own, in a building a faceless corporation built. I lived there during a twelve-month lease, plus three more on a month-to-month basis.
There will be readers who do not understand this life I’ve chosen to live; those who do not believe it to be practical or natural. Well I believe it to be very natural. What could be more natural than living on one’s own grit? Surviving only by foraging for sustenance at the organic grocery store, just three minutes away. Working for myself, and not laboring for another man. I sustained myself by tweeting and blogging for profit; growing more in touch with my surroundings as the days go by. They will say, it must get lonesome. Yes, the solitary nature of a luxury studio apartment leaves me occasionally lonesome, but I am not without my guests. There’s regular visits from a cast of characters, each coming to life at the press of play on my Netflix account. Though even then, sometimes there are too many people trying to access the account at once, and I am to sit still in my own thoughts.
There are unfortunate souls who have been given everything, inheriting cars and stock portfolios. It is much better to have been born into nothing and earn the rewards of a 401K matching option during previous employment. It is just as much a shame to see those who work to live, or live to work, or whichever means they’re working too much. Isn’t it much more practical to just take a year off and find oneself over a craft beer and a sampling of the city’s finest fish tacos? That is what I have discovered in my aloneness.
Having been educated at the highest levels, I can now see that true learning can only be done when separated from the busyness of life. I have spent time silencing the noise literally, with noise cancelling headphones while sipping a coffee, freshly brewed in a busy café. True relaxation; getting away from it all and just writing down my thoughts as they come to me:
What if it was Thoreau’s Walden, but like, in walking distance of my favorite brunch place?
What is Thoreau’s first name? I know I know this.
No, I don’t think that’s right. David. David. It’s something David. Starts with an L, I think.
Larry David? I’m an idiot, that’s the Seinfeld guy. HENRY DAVID! I’m not an idiot at all. I’m very smart.
It is clear to me now that I have too much time on my hands. This kind of life, while it holds some merit, cannot be sustained. I will finally leave my little apartment to travel the countryside; passing by farmland and nature, eventually landing in a new home where I will pass the seasons. Likely Portland, or Austin. Wherever my parents are willing to send me.