Late Nights, Early Flights (2014)

I never sleep well before I travel somewhere. Doesn’t matter how far I’m going, a creeping anxiousness comes between me and my blankets as I try to get well rested before sitting on a plane. I’m done living in Lauderdale. Tomorrow I’m flying to Puerto Rico with my British friend. I don’t know how long I’ll stay or what exactly I’m doing there. I assume going to the beach and drinking. Going on tours of San Juan and the surrounding islands.

I sent home all of my things I brought down to lauderdale, save for a few changes of clothes. I buried the broken record player, last remnant of the car wreck. Not even the pain lingers. I suppose it didn’t want to leave Lauderdale. I didn’t touch my short story once while down here. So much for that plan. At least I read a few good books and met a lot of good people. It was fun to watch the city mutate as different crowds came and went, to watch the locals move like the tides in and out of certain bars, tourists pushing and pulling them like moon gravity. I sat relentlessly through it all, a rock on the beach.

I’d like to be able to sit here and wax on about what I’ve learned in the last few months but nothing really comes to mind, just the specifics of a few people I met (shoutout to Scary Jerry) and moments I spent with them. This is all a life lived in the moment really is. I plan on moving past it now, into different ones, and I’ll let thoughts of the past infect my mind, I’ll do my best to try and diagnose them with reason. For now, I have diagnosed myself as needing sleeping. My pillow has much to tell me.

Greetings from what’s no longer my room. More on Puerto Rico and America, soon.

-Maxwell

Choosing through musings

I left for the airport, intentionally leaving my umbrella behind, and it began to rain. I’ve great respect for whoever said “when it rains, it pours”. Nail on the head, nail on the head.

My cabbie is running out of gas. I’m struggling to poeticize this now, but that’s life. I’m still smiling, and the beach is still waiting for me. If it rains there I’ll merely go underwater and watch the droplets drum on the water’s surface, envisioning “the beach”, the chapter with the rainy days. I’ll pretend I’m hunting for fish with a spear…if there are fish to aid my pretending.

Back to now, my cabbie is explaining the difference in gas prices (3.50 a km) to fare (1 a km). No wonder they try to rip off every falang.

Also, who coined the phrase “coined a phrase”?