Somehow some part of me managed to squeeze off the blood flow to the rational centers of my brain this morning just long enough to make a six-minute phone call. Maybe that’s the physiological mechanism of creativity (or insanity). A little valve upstream of a small capillary bed malfunctions and closes off the blood supply to the rational part of the brain. Anyhow, it happened just long enough this morning for me to quit my life. How do you give up living rent free in a rarely occupied 30 acre estate bordering 2,500 acres of pristine, trail laden Vermont forest in a town so beautiful that piles of billionaires and business titans find themselves permanently relocating their families here? Easily, just relieve yourself of the burden of rational thought for six minutes. Couples toil up the care taking food chain for decades to get a gig like this. No one leaves unless the house is sold or they are asked to. We bucked the trend. As with most of the interesting stuff that’s poked me in my life in recent years, P-nut is to blame.
There is a new part of my irrational brain that believes there is a much better life out there beyond this safe time capsule of a town. Paula has managed to saturate me with such a powerful hit of art smelling salts that I am no longer satisfied with a quiet, peaceful life. I woke up and found myself bored. Atrophied. I’m ready for stimulation, action, art, PEOPLE. My God there’s nobody here. Get me near some fucking people. I feel like I’ve been left unplugged in some forgotten place . . . ‘Hmmm look at this thing I found in the attic. I guess it doesn’t work. Oh look, it just needs to be plugged in. Bzzz. Brrr. Chuhnk. Wunka-wunka-wunka-wunka. Wow, this thing’s incredible! It works perfectly. Geez, I could have really used this a few years ago. Wish I knew it was up there’
Oh, lookee over there, across the country, a big ol’ power socket. Hmm, never noticed that before. I guess it's time to toss my comfortable life and go check it out.