Stranger

Finally got the machine going again. It's been a blur for the last couple of weeks and I'm finally starting to gasp for breath after the flurry of "must do" that kept me existing without any real time or place. But I am here. It's an odd feeling, the newness of everything. The leaves are bright red and yellow...it reminds me of a line in a poem I wrote about the trees looking like faded bruises. I don't belong yet. I am still very much the expatriate, down to that inexplicable wistfulness for a place that I willingly left behind. I find comfort in the familiar sounds of Mexican dialects in the grocery store. People are often intrigued and ask me where I am from, whether the words coming from my mouth are English or Spanish. The answer is the same as it has always been. Texas. The inescapable provenance that is bone-deep in me regardless of where I ever find myself. It is ironic to me that the land I sometimes pine for is what inspired my wanderlust in the first place. The wildness of it, the openness that I remember from my childhood is what has made me fearless when facing different horizons. This place is a new shoe to me...pretty, but a little uncomfortable. I don't have any doubt that I will grow to love it once I am here long enough to transform the strangeness into familiarity. I felt such a comfort sitting down to write tonight. I suppose it's not so odd to feel anchored by this virtual home and all the people in it that I know and love. I have so much more to tell about the trip and my dealings with Johnny the Redneck Painter (I'm not kidding...a redneck from New Jersey...he's a story unto himself! But wait! There's more! He comes with a matching girlfriend, who comes with industrial size fake tits!), but it's too late to really do any of it justice. For now, I'll just say goodnight and hello again. : )