My grandfather kept several video tapes for my brother and I and him to watch when we were little. There was Cat Ballou, there was El Dorado, and there was a baseball bloopers tape from ages ago. And I remember one announcer in particular saying, "The sun appears to have set in the East."
That's the one way I remember which way I am going if ever in time of lost travel. Good direction is a hard thing to find nowadays. Like man has lost his way. Used to, people knew where their way around, didn't need to ask which was was north or south. They could feel it in their bones, could draw maps with the stars in the sky. It was an old man, the man of history, the man forgotten now, it seems. Only remembered in fairy tales and in countrysides.
Sometimes it is good to take a trip and not know where your are going. To pack up and head out, your destination a question mark and not an X on some map. Half the adventure is wandering around.
But I miss not knowing where I am going. Drawing a line in the sand with a crooked stick. Send me from A to B. Let me meet wary travelers on the same pilgrimage.
We all seem to have lost our way.
The world seems sad. Painted faces, clown smiles, ways of acting out happiness in the same manner and fashion as we see imitated before us, driving in our large cars with our windows rolled up, to keep the sad world out.
It's quiet outside. I hate how much I like it that way.
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