all things go

I leapt across three or four beds into your arms
Where I had hidden myself somewhere in your charm
Our golden handshake has been smashed into this shape
It's taken magic to a primitive new place
~New Pornographers

today at 3:43pm: looking at plane tickets for Zihuatanejo

I never thought I would extol any virtues about Cincinnati other than our unique and fabulous chili. But lately, I have been praising it up and down for the many highways you can take to get the hell outta Dodge. I-71N was my plane-alternative ticket to Manhattan, I-74E led me to Wilmington, NC one impulsive evening after work, and good ole I75 took me pretty much anywhere--the most memorable to Chesapeake Bay, MD, in time for a late morning ocean swim one spontaneous summer weekend. Despite the numerous perks Juneau has to offer, such as extensive trails, camping opportunities galore, and various sea-related escapades, being able to actually leave here is not one of them. My spur-of-the-moment travel urges are thwarted by our airline monopoly's prices and the ferry's random timetable. Would I sacrifice this Walden-esque isolationism for a road passing through 60 avalanche chutes and the ruin of incredible habitat? Of course not. (Anyway, that road ends at Katzehin Ferry Terminal and is phenomenally and expensively pointless.)

But I am looking for a vacation out of this vacation spot. Unsatiated, my wanderlust wants to push the red button. Quit the new job, it says, and move to Vienna or Mexico. You could pick up German or Spanish and finally visit Prague or Tikal. My devil's advocate argues, but you like it here, your job is rewarding and meaningful, it's harder to study for the LSAT when you're living out of a suitcase, and hello, you can see whales 30 minutes out the road. Yes, but then her devil's advocate says there will be more than plenty of time to wrestle the practical when you're on a 9-year track for a PhD.

I guess that I just want to know there's an easy exit somewhere, just in case I need it, but having one doesn't necessarily mean I would use it; the knowledge alone is generally sufficient to calm me and keep my head on straight. But when I feel confined, I panic at the thought of losing recourse, and that's when the demons start bickering.

In lieu of travels, I am devouring books like it's my job (and oh, how I wish it really were...):
prague ~arthur phillips
candide ~voltaire
bradbury speaks: too soon from the caves, too far from the stars ~ray bradbury
indigenous peoples and the modern state ~multiple editors
bones, boats, and bison: archaeology and the first colonization of western north america ~e. james dixon

Also, I have the ever-faithful Buddy, the Green Monster to take care of this summer. I have big plans for Buddy. We are summeting Mt. Jumbo, damn it.

In a completely unrelated conversation:
Me: Remember that scene in Thumbsucker and the guy does a weird impression right before the girl goes down on him?
Friend: Yeah, I know! You and I looked at each other at exactly the same time!
Me: (blank expression) ...
Friend: Okay, it was just me looking at you.