A life in transit I ask myself what would that feel like. Would I in that circumstance rather be still? I wonder. Through transitory windows of American lives, I steal stills of intimacy of exotic lives. I was thinking about Gauguin this morning. Was he brave or coward? I wonder. I enjoy romanticising the sinful life of the artist/traveller who chooses a purer existence away from Facebook and Twitter. I could sit down under a palm tree with him, staring at a Tahitian sunset while sipping cheap whiskey. I still wouldn't see the water's edge that separates me from the Seven Seas but I'd be smiling.
This morning I wrote a song called
Sailors & Heroes. The chorus goes
// Don't waste your time searching for one, he might not come // he might not come.
Sailors and heroes also have down times, they lie awake without a brake, thinking of pirates and lives to save // Sailors and heroes, don't wait for one // don't wait for one // he might never come.
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