Hi folks,
For those of you who are keeping track of me and how I am (thanks for your emails of concern): silence is not a good sign is it? Nor is silence even appropriate given my promise to ‘keep in touch’, especially regarding those who have chipped in to keep me going… I’ll come back to this but I need to apologize right up front…
Been over a month since my last post and although I’ve started this at least three times, it never went anywhere so I kept putting it down and off. Truth is, I’ve been blocked, still am, and am forcing this. I’m also hoping for the therapeutic value here. I’ve always found that writing about my problems goes a long way toward resolving them.
The fact that I am not in Mexico and surfing right now and have not been there and been doing that for the past three months is part of it.
No, wait. Backing up: The problem is in layers, layers of mistakes. Mine. The big one was leaving the home I built in Costa Rica back in ’06. I felt I had to choose between the memoir I’d been working on (Can’t You Get Along…) and the ‘paradise’ I’d found and even partially built. If I published the book (at least as written), I couldn’t stay. It exposed too much truth about too many people. If you want to live in a very small town in an essentially lawless outback, mind your own business kind of a thing.
My mistake. (Another layer down from this mistake was the one I made regarding the woman I brought down to live with me. This was a weakness of character more than a bad choice, although it certainly was the latter.)
Part of my excuse was that the truths I spilled about the residents revealed an underbelly of deceit that I thought must be unique to where I was, to the area. Do I really want to live here? I asked myself. And anyway, isn’t exposing truth more important than the issue of where I would be happiest?
Another mistake. I call this a separate mistake because I should have known that few people actually care what the truth is. Were human nature a bit different – if folks in general really did make a real value distinction between truth and non-truth, the sacrifice would have been worth it. Although I should have known all this by ’06, it took a few more years and unfortunate experiences with people to learn the lesson.
And yes, in deciding that the book would be published, there was a bit of revenge in the mix. I knew the book would upset people that deserved to be upset.
Another weakness of character, for which I paid a price.
In 2008 I left Mexico without checking my car out, which has resulted in an import ban. I can’t drive my rig down there, theoretically (we’ll see).
Still another mistake. Laziness on my part.
So currently I wander the southwest and immerse myself in study. Aside from extra food, water, fuel, and off-the-grid necessities, the rig is heavy with books, with more generally in transit from Amazon on any given day; my main expense is keeping online (via cell connect), so as to be able to access information in my research on HTWW.
I find places to hunker down, preferably with a view, usually for at least a week, and read and google and make imagery; I make a point of avoiding my fellow ‘boondockers’, a.k.a. ‘dry campers,’ who are their own separate category of RVer, by the way. (The boondocker counterpart, who stay in RV parks (for $25 – $50 a night) are closer to the image you may have of RVers, i.e., either aging retirees or poor white ‘trailer trash,’ who are one disability (or SS or whatever) check away from actual hunger.
I’ll usually move on when the area gets to be too much of a ‘neighborhood.’
I have made a handful of friends during this wander, defined by those whose emails I have exchanged then used. Maybe a half dozen since June (couples/families are counted as one).
See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it, Allan? What I mean is that I’ve been putting off writing partially because I didn’t think I had anything to say. Which I may not, but you should be the judge. I’m not in shape to decide on a question of that importance.
For what it’s worth: It’s really bothered me that I haven’t posted in so long. In fact, being depressed about not writing has created a sort of feedback loop wherein I don’t write because I haven’t written. Gets worse and worse.
My surfing isn’t what it was even four or five years ago. It occurs to me that the same might be true of my writing. I haven’t had this sort of writer’s block before. It’s scary. I know. Not your problem. But any help you can give would be appreciated.
Hey, suddenly a bunch of subjects come to mind that you might be interested in! Absolutely. Not to mention some images (Postcards kinda stuff) that just need some thought and editing time…
Here’s the deal. What I need is a deadline. If nothing else, I flat owe some of you that – monthly contributors – in the actual sense of indebtedness. So: Starting now, Fridays are my Post days. Each post will be at least partially based on a diary that I’m starting as of today.
Because of my tenuous net connection, however, I’m giving myself a 24 hour easement, starting Fridays at midnight, in case of unavoidable technical issues. In other words, if necessary the deadline is actually midnight on Saturdays (going into Sunday).
Ok? If I fuck up I expect some real harassment.
More in a week.
Allan
The other thing I can do even if I can’t come up with a real post (or Postcard) is to pass on worthwhile links. Like this one: