If there’s such a thing, I have it. Feeling numbed by this locale — all slick tourist traps, stuffed bears, Native America novelty, and faux old English charm. My totemic self is having an identity crisis. Without structure, familiarity or moorings, adrift by the sea.
Sense of homelessness (something very different from the fact of homelessness) is as palpable and plentiful as the street folk scattered around here, wandering this wealthy garden paradise. The effect of transition, I suspect. Feels like I’ve been bumming around coffee shops for the last couple of months, here and in Montreal, looking for meaning I won’t find in a well-brewed cappuccino.
I need a new project — a “real” job — something more rooted than all this aimlessness. It’s all coming soon.
For now, caffeine will have to suffice as spiritual source…Magic beans, man…