Anywhere But Here


The Vicious Frieze I (1987) was an original bad dog. However I’m sure there were others before it.

Steve, the barroom-gruff Boomer guy at the laundromat, says the vacation he and his wife just got back from, in Fort Lauderdale, was excellent. A customer chimes in, “At least you weren’t here!

“Anywhere but here!” he howls.

My immediate thought is tinged with jealousy: Some people only. Have. Here.

They can’t jump on a ’plane and fly to Jamaica. They can’t take a weekend in New England. They just gotta sit tight, pressed like bugs under cloudy prairie skies and Be Here Now — because, c’mon, fucking admit it: it’s ridiculous and no one is truly happy “being here.”

Perspective. Probably depends on how you look at it.

Generally I don’t do well on beaches, unless it’s in my own mind. I get glimmers of other places, even places I’ve been to before. When the “outside world” — the Bubble and all its pushy-as-fuck extroversion — says “that’s the way it is!” well, I beg to differ.

Pick up a book.

Watch an old movie, or one set in another time period.

Write your own story or remember your past, envision your future.

Draw and paint and sketch or pick up a musical instrument and make something…

That will bring you here, along with me.

100 Days of Words and Art for 4–5–2017

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