The Twelfth: Walden

FOX

59 pages so far of this book and its been less than 24 hours since I cracked it's cover. I've read many many Thoreau quotes, which I've been know to whip out in conversation like an intellectual assassin's throwing star, with out ever having read the source material. Being that now I'm in college, and learning is my prime directive, it might now be wise to work on filling the space between my ears with something other than articles in the fucking news paper and hit or miss science fiction stories. Well, I have read more than that, and used to on a regular basis but as of late getting my fingers on a computer for anything other than class work is a terrible trouble. Until recently, I had all but forgotten the Library. Yes that so sturdy and dependable though grossly underfunded branch of the U.S. government was had been nearly wiped from my mind in the past few years. See, the twig of the branch by my house was being renovated from 2005 to 2008 much to my dismay... brief dismay. When the Internet is available in abundance everything is at your fingertips.

[Editor's Note: I would like to inform you at this piont that if you are about to or have ever considered the act of eating Trappey's Canned Okra and Tomatoes, just please stop now. It will only end in heart ache and a lingering vinegar smell, which is disturbing as the ingredients do not list vinegar]

Today the library is open, media is again at my fingertips, though in a wholly physical way now, and the world is right again. Last night I checked out a 1999 hardback printing of the book. Due to a literary academic thing I attended, reading was postponed til late that evening when I managed to devour a whole 7 pages while keeping my eyes open and my head propped up against a pillow. The eye crossing was a problem and soon overcame me. The book wasn't picked up again until that morning. I have hardly put it down since, although due to it's antiquated language and thought provoking monsterparagraphs the eye crossing was still a problem, leading to about four naps of a very contemplative nature.

So far in my reading I've come to quite a few conclusions, some of which I see time ruining, some the course of the book disproving, others unclear in their reasoning may fall under their very weight. However its been fun to think these things, and it seems Thoreau felt the same way. He wished to be a wise man living a simple life, the only respite from the toil of survival being the enriching of the mind. Pretty fucking hot to a philosophy nerd such as myself I must say. Really, if I was a young farmers daughter in Concord during the 1840s I'm sure my prying visits would have been the foremost of Henry's troubles.

Reading the first chapter I can't help but be reminded of the story of Alexander Supertramp (AKA Chris Mccandless) which shook my life so violently last spring. In the chapter titled "Economy" Thoreau gives the reasons for why he set out in the wilderness, none much unlike the reasons Chris is thought to have had. There ends were much the same in theory, although Alex seemed to put into practice the wandering freedom Thoreau praises but hardly seems to experience himself. This may be in part due to age, Thoreau being thirty and well through his 'gotta see the world' years. Or maybe this difference did lie in the divergence of philosophies... Alex went to the woods to breathe, Henry to think. To my dismay I'll never know, these secrets and more are locked behind the lips of dead men.

These two fallen sojourners are my heroes, if one can truly find a hero in a man they haven't met. As is the brave and rightheaded author Voltairine de Cleyre. The idea of a hero disturbs me (more than anything produced by Trappey's)because what does it mean? What does it imply to recognize one with the title? Simply that, on par with a pat on the back or an entire temple complex. Well, I'm not sure. It's past my bed time. Even with all the sleep I've gotten the blankets still pull me with a great power... also I'd like to read some more of this book here. What's he getting on about cooperation? Society vs Man? I must know!

Anyway, even if I wont apply the term hero to these individuals, still I intend with all my cells and particles to follow their lead, or plot my own course very near theirs. For they have spelled out a life unlike the ones around me, more true and pure in every way that to ignore their examples would be to ignore a part of myself and I'd soon rather die than resign to such a fate.

[Editor's Note: I've been reading far far to many stirring old bits of literature, its starting to take over my own style. I apologize, unless you are as riled as I am and moved to emotions you haven't felt in weeks, then carry on]

The Sixth: To Drin...

My mother has been in AA for almost six years now. A couple times a week I hear her on the phone giving long lectures to women with perpetual hangovers about devoting themselves completely to honesty and working the program for a year, or some other mind boggling amount of time. She says how the only way to succeed at something you know is good but you think is too tough to do is just to fucking dive into it with no stops allowed. No incremental moderate bullshit, just pure living for something you believe in. I love that idea, and at times I wish I was a drunk so I could try it out for myself.

The last six months or so have been a time of distilling all my thoughts into a few core beliefs and desires. Now I can see them in front of me, but how to get there is a blur. My plans get confused with all sorts of logistical hang ups, often resting on the basic conflict between my view of life and my imagined obligations to everyone else's view of how my life should be. That sounds kind of confusing, it feels that way to. But maybe it's just easier to blame my lack of action on other people. Like mom always says, any excuse will do...

I feel like all the things I'm doing are all comming too soon, the so called responsible things anyway. Being in college, getting a job, planning my financial future, in other words settling down all before I've even shook things up. In my heart of hearts I want adventure. I want to scrape by on the skin of my teeth, but because of my own choices. The same force that pushed Thoreau to the woods is what rages within me. He said in walden, "I did not wish to live what was not life....I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." How can I begin to live my life properly if I don't know what life truly is, or who I truly am?
It's hard to live "Sparten-like" in this day and age. There aren't many woods around anymore and they certainly are far out of my price range. The comforts of american life are overwhelming and ever present. Being poor in a U.S. city has little to do with the life of a woodsman. The life of a slave is a much closer approximation.

The life of a traveller is what I crave. I want it more than anything. It terrifies me. On one hand, if I tried it the obligations to everyone else's view of how my life should be would be totally shattered. What then would happen to our relationships? On the other hand, this impulse is strong, and if resisted might manifest in other ways. I could end up sabotaging this responsible life of mine. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened.

When you're new in a place you have a view of it that's rare. Fresh eyes see beauty in what others take for granted. You live in the moment because you have to, because you have no learned responses to what you're experiencing. Also, if you're a traveller you can be honest without much fear of future repercussions, you'll pick up and leave soon enough anyway. It's such a learning experience. Viewing many different people and lifestyles in rapid succession gives you a chance to compare the similarities and differences while they're still fresh in your mind. And it's a challenge, scraping by, packing light, adapting....

Perhaps I'm romanticizing it. I've read too many books, seen too many movies about travellers. Regardless, I need to find out.

Thanks for your blog. It was like reading my own thoughts on paper, thoughts I haven't really wanted to write down myself. I don't know if I took it all the way you meant it, I'm sure much of it got lost in translation, but yeah, thanks. It meant a lot last night.