" . . .shall ever remain Nameless"

Let's see if I can still do this . . .

I've finally made it out of Michigan just in time to realize it wasn't quite the firetrap or Loyalist enclave I thought it was. Nevertheless, one can't neglect the sense that by heaving oneself out of their hometown that they have somehow further deconstructed themselves. OUt of stubborness or laziness or fear we often stave off change; claim we're gathering resources, building armies or perfectly happy. My most current convienence is that I have no choice but to embrace the far-fetched and turbulent. On a conveyor belt, anxious as the machinery catches up.

For a second or third time I drove across a huge swath of this tremendous country and I can assure that every misstep and corruption occurring in the City goes almost completely unnoticed in the Great Plains. This is not from conversation, I admit, but from the stark realization that our nation is split into an infinitum of sovereignties within itself. For Minnesota to flinch at the concerns of Iowa, floodwaters or cracks in the droughted soil would have to creep a few hundred miles up the Mississippi. Thus, for Wyoming to give two shits about the struggles of the crack orphans of Detroit Public Schools they'd have to be refugees fleeing to Cheyenne. Every disgrace, even the simply fixed, glows like an ember. It sears at the touch, but hardly affects the ambience from just a few feet away. This is not an indictment of the inhabitants of these places any more than it is one of myself. This is an observation of an extended reality that I have seen everywhere.

And, contrary to the mediaplex, this is not a nation erupt with skyscrapers and freeways. It stands nearly empty in the middle, questioning the courage of those on the rim. There are fields so large they curve out of view. There are expanses so great thay we could never fill them with our ignorance or our appetite. There are views so pure that one dare not speak of them. There are still sunrises in valleys, and storms over mountains that make me weep.

I spent last days with The One or her double and healed a thousand tiny cuts without a word or a sound. The sparkling dome above us a reminder that there is no suffering, no desire and no time unless we want there to be. Then She left without a promise because that sort of thing simply can't be held down.

I'm nearly settled in now, just have a few more pedestrian items on the checklist before it's officially home, and its finally sinking in that the future is wide fucking open.