In 32 days I am going to quit feeling depressed about climate change all the time and start being a punk rocker.
I am going on tour.
Three days before I left home I went busking with a new friend at the BART station. I was feeling a little down; my date for the night had cancelled on me so I was planning a night alone. But I had borrowed a music book from a banjo player, and decided to call and see if he wanted it returned before I took off. We ended up meeting up and spending hours jamming and singing and dancing, and even making a little money. My spirits were back up, and he ended up coming over for a game of chess.
We spent the next few days falling stupidly in love with each other, spending nearly every second together exploring trainyards and forests, playing music, and kissing. And then I got in a car and took off for Portland, my first stop on this journey. Bizarrely, he and I kept in touch, getting to know each other through over-the-top love letters, sketches, and voice messages. So on July 4th I’m meeting him in Indiana to kick off a super punk makeout tour that will take us all around the east and finally back to the bay area.
And for sure we’re going to come back to Lincoln, Nebraska, where I am now, because this town is shockingly cool. I’m staying with some rad musical magical people here, camping under the stars in their backyard, serenaded by crickets and the trains roaring down the nearby tracks.
Each time I leave the Bay Area, I find it gets harder and harder. I miss home more than I ever have traveling before. While I was tripping at Craters of the Moon, the last residents of the Albany Bulb were being cleared out of their longtime home and comrades landed in jail for defending the space. The sacred place that rooted me to my home for my last few months in town won’t exist when I get back, and it breaks my heart. Every day on the road I am reminded of the injustices that happen everywhere to people and ecosystems struggling for survival and happiness. Capitalism seems bent on suffocating the ability of all things to live freely, bent on destroying what is wild.
But, I feel good. Really good. For the first time in a while. I am learning how to survive on the excess of this excessive culture, giving me a lot of time to work on destroying the systems that keep people isolated and pacified. I feel free and I am learning how to love myself as I learn how to love strangers. I don’t have a lot of faith that things are going to get better anytime soon. More than likely this shit is going to fall apart before it can get any better, but if we want to be ready, we have to be able to trust and respect each other and ourselves. I’m getting there.
This blog has never really been about sharing with the world for me. It has been an awesome outlet for all the intense waves of feelings I’ve moved through while traveling, and it’s helping me cope with the trauma of daily life in a world seemingly on the brink of collapse.
Music is another coping mechanism for me. So I’m going to be a punk rocker.
And I’m going to go to national parks too. Because I value my sanity.