2 days until we move to Basking Ridge, NJ– almost all I can think about. This move is a striking contrast to my move to Fort Myers/Estero, FL back in 2005, which led to deepened mental illness, obsession with marijuana, dropping out of college and a kind of psychological downfall.
*It’s seizing my consciousness: only 2 days until we move to Basking Ridge, NJ!
*What does it mean to think about living somewhere?
*Personal/inner revolution…major changes– like the world of Heraclitus
*The dark, revolutionary period when I moved to Fort Myers/Estero, FL in contrast to our upcoming move
*I did not really think through my move to Fort Myers/Estero, FL
*I was, in general, an oblivious person
*paranoia, panic attacks, and other consequences of my marijuana obsession
*morality & time
*convinced I suffered from severe intellectual disability
*unable to even enjoy a romantic relationship, convinced of the worst in everyone, including myself and believing Fort Myers was cursed by evil spirits
*My fantasy vision of myself as a rich & famous Ex-pat poet living in Europe only to end up a nihilist in South Beach
*My troubled epistemology
*Questions I should have asked myself & tried to answer
[Note: I began this essay in the autumn of 2017 initially intending it to be a poem. It has been revised numerous times to reach its current form]
Music plays on my Apple laptop…the back reads: “Designed by Apple in California Assembled in China.”
According to the “executive summary” for the China Labor Watch Website “workers making the iPhone” are exploited, paid just $1.85 per hour.
(Compare to my $11; compare to $7.25, America’s minimum wage).
The Guardian reports that the Foxcon Longhua factory in China, which manufactures iPhones, has body catching nets to curtail its suicide epidemic.
Should I trash what the workers produced in protest, and boycott?
I sigh…the music plays on…a man and woman sing: “I-I-I-O-I-I-I-O-I-O-AH- I-O-I-O-O-AYYYY! AYYYY! YEAHHH!…”
According to a Business Wire article published June 23, 1999, it was a husband and wife singing “a vocal chant” called “Jubilant Drinking Song,” recorded in the late 1970s and incorporated without their knowledge in this international top ten hit– the 1993 song “Return to Innocence,” by a music group that calls itself “Enigma.”
This resulted in a lawsuit and then eventually a settlement.
The music continues…I think of wind…wind…blowing through American beachgrass…
…the sound of ocean waves crashing while I’m walking on the Rehoboth Beach boardwalk, gazing at the snow falling from a dark gray, nighttime sky.
I show the winter wind my toughness as it persists, whipping my exposed skin.
The music inspires, and facilitates contemplation and day dreams…
Walking helps me meditate. My thoughts: streaming, roaming, like wind, or birds flying. No obligations… except to walk, and meditate. The sky, a sheet of blank white paper. I wish it would snow. Yes, let winter arrive early! Make it colder. Cold air, so blunt, stimulating, ordering me to feel its intensity, like masterpiece art work or extra dry gin, and refreshing, like pure cranberry juice (without any added sugar) from the refrigerator, or like waking up late after a much needed, long night of sleep, and exciting too, like the first French kiss in series, igniting my nerves. At least the air this afternoon chills enough to repel the gnats, and mosquitoes. Autumn’s rustic bouquets blooming…I wish I could walk through its maze all day. The air’s force, when it gusts, feels like God’s blessing, an extract of pure benevolence, a grandparent’s kiss.
[Note: the writing of this essay began back in the fall of 2017, intended originally as a “poem” and was completed within a year’s time and now ultimately takes the form of a short essay)
Fear of dying in my sleep…of dying in poverty, no career I climbed up to reflect on… just a plethora of aspirations and thoughts racing like a flock of thousands of birds headed south…while America’s democracy and rule of law corrode…gin and prayers fail to relax me…
But I am like my grandmother.
She used to listen to talk radio late at night as she fell asleep, sometimes not until three a.m.…
I watch the news on my laptop…
…five splits in the screen so we can see the face of each expert on the news panel… strikes my eyes like the rays of a plasma ball, the dendrites of a neuron under a microscope, octopus arms, jellyfish tentacles inside an aquarium…
President Trump called NFL players “sons of bitches” for kneeling during the singing of the national anthem to protest racism and police brutality.
Nuclear North Korea threatens the inevitability of violence…
Even on Friday, at 11:30 p.m. when one could be doing anything… many, like MSNBC’s Brian Williams analyze our Earth’s environment and community- its well-being or lack thereof.
Caretakers indeed abound: bureaucrats, military, police, fire fighters, hospital workers, and nocturnal intellectuals, with integrity.
It helps me sleep…
The developing complexity of my psychology, my determinism, my nihilism, and my marijuana obsession, as I transfer from Kean University to Florida Gulf Coast University (From Elizabeth/Union, NJ to Fort Myers/Estero, FL) between 2004-2006
*My desire to drop out of college and emulate Jack Kerouac, hitchhiking America
*Moving to Fort Myers/Estero, FL to attend Florida Gulf Coast University (FGCU) felt like a miracle, an artist’s “dream come true.”
*The irony of feeling “liberated”– falling into the depths of determinism & nihilism
*WHY was I really even attending college? I didn’t know…I was just waiting for riches and fame because I was convinced that was simply my fate. Bob Dylan put it so well when he sang:
SOONER OR LATER ONE OF US MUST KNOW
THAT YOU JUST DID WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO DOBob Dylan; Sooner or Later