The Lure of Elsewhere

Coming to you wireless from the Beatnik Café in Joshua Tree, my very favorite place on Earth. It is my final wish that when my fleshy shell goes stiff, I am to be toasted and lightly sprinkled from some mesa in Joshua Tree . . . . which is illegal, which is perfect. As long as my ashes don’t float down to Palm Springs, I’ll be happy – I don’t want to have to spend eternity on some unnatural golf course trampled upon by vacationing Hollywood execs.

Indeed, J-Tree is where I will spend my final days and every time I come here, I wonder why I don’t move sooner. Between Pappy & Harriet’s , the Beatnik Café, The Sun Runner and the Desert Institute, I could be quite content. Funky characters abound, observatories and recording studios aplenty and the desert itself – I could be happy here and stay close to Mama Iva. Then, I remember that I’m already moving to Austin or Mississippi or New Orleans or Wyoming or Whatever and then I ask myself “What the hell is your problem, Self? Why can’t you sit still, fer chrissakes?”

Clearly, it is change that I crave; a new adventure and a fresh place. Little pockets of people that I would meet, a like-minded community I could infiltrate and a host of eclectic hubs that would show me underground secrets.

Why the wanderlust? I have always marveled at rich people with homes in Italy, New York, Paris - how do they know where home is? Still, given my druthers and a Google bank account, I would happily have homes in Joshua Tree, Austin, San Francisco and Mississippi. Oh my yes, I could do this quite easily.

So then, the question is, how do I make a lot of money? How do I arrange my life so that I do not have to wear a nametag or spend my days in a cubicle? Will this blog lead me to fame, fortune and high-speed wi-fi wherever I roam? Furthermore, why didn’t I pack my Magic 8-Ball for wobbly moments just like this?

I had a dream last night that my life was about giving speeches. I love the idea but don’t I need to have survived some intense national tragedy or have my name associated with Oprah’s Book club to do that? My needs are basic – horses to ride, cheese to eat, wine to drink and, of course, the Internet. What else is there?

I like talking . . . maybe I could become a monologist and pattern my life after Spaulding Grey minus the suicidal ferry rides. God, I feel like George Constanza, “What about baseball? I like baseball. Maybe I could manage a baseball team . . . .”

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