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Monday June 29, 2020 subscribe |
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kayaked downlake into
the wind feeling muscles i'd forgotten. houses
big and small, '70s apartments built on
pilings--can't do that no more. people fishing
from shore under overpass, a metaphor there
waiting to happen in a parody of public space,
people eking out a meal (if they're lucky) in
the shadow of a
contested stretch of interstate. i drift back on the
wind, no hurry or effort, i admire but don't
envy the lakefront places. the bigger they get,
the less homey they seem. i'm bobbing
along in what looks like a banana--plastic
yellow kayak as cheap as it gets (on loan from a
neighbor). in this moment everything is perfect,
no tax, no rent. the truth is you don't get what
you pay for--you always spend more to account
for profit. it's a double-edged sword, workers
exploited, customers cheated, in between lies
the thin stuff that drives the american dream. a
pot of gold can't buy a rainbow. the best things
in life are free--sun, water, air, time to think
and feel, no need to do anything or go anywhere.
it's all here.
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