Monday, October 25, 2004


someday i'll get employed and everything i'm complaining about right now will look like a silly waste of time, just the way all my frantic crazy banter about wanting out of this country instantly looked like childish, foolish and pointless complaining, the very moment it turned out i got to go. but people don't realize how hard it really was for me to get out of here, nor how much i want to go back. people seemed to think that i needed to be more excited about going to Europe, or that i wasn't being happy enough that i was going, when it was a few days away from the date of departure. how could i have explained, how difficult it had been for me to get out of my hometown, how hard it still is for me not to sink and fall back into that place, to this day? how could i explain how desperate and frantic i always was to leave the town i couldn't escape, how could i explain that situation to the citizens of Champaingne Coast? no matter how many times i've tried to explain it, they still do not understand. they were suprised that i was only gone two weeks; i don't know how long they thought i would be gone, even though i believe i told them it was two weeks. they asked if it was life-changing; how on earth could i have explained what life-changing even means to me anymore? my life is different three times in one day; how could i have described to them that yes, i am just that kind of American that looked out of the plane window and could not, could absolutely not believe, that it was really Germany that i was looking down on? that it didn't hit me that i really was outside the United States, like really and truly was actually outside of the US itself; that that felt like being outside reality, that i was still having trouble getting it through my head on day 4 or 5 of being in Prague... I think they thought i was spoiled or something for not acting excited enough about going; but there's no use in trying to explain, that i knew beforehand that i would have trouble getting it through my head that i was on the other side of the ocean, and that i was really actually there, and that it was a place and not just an idea. they have no idea what coming from foxtown has done to me, and they never really can completelly understand; nor, i guess, can they be expected to understand that i am still only partly recovered from being from there, and that it will take a great deal more work for me to catch up with the rest of the world. i am not from a place that considers other places to be real, or worth thinking about. most other people are. and most people who are from these kinds of places, stay in these kinds of places forever, because nowhere else is ever really real-feeling to them. not even places as close to foxtown, as Champainge Coast and Lantern Cove are. No one can really believe you, when you're in a place like foxtown, that you've been anywhere else, or that you're going anywhere else. going outside of the town is the same as dissappearing. and people who are from outside, are people who appeared from out of nowhere and just started existing one day from nothing. i could relay metaphors like this to you all day and it still wouldn't be real or believable the way i know it, unless you've lived there. unless you're from there; and were the type of person who, all their life, could think of nothing but escape; the world outside; and who was surrounded always by a field of people who could never understand that desire. Nowadays i'm surrounded by people who can't take stories about foxtown seriously, and who when i try to explain or describe the place, only partly listen, only partly care, and who in their hearts will never think it matters, that i was ever there. I don't know how to make you care, but i hope that you will give me the chance to at least be listened-to on this. believe me, the people in foxtown have never cared about you either, and don't really, in their hearts, even believe that you are real. i know that this doesn't alarm you or make you feel anything other than amused and perhaps discusted, for they are small and the rest of the world is big; and *they* are the fools, for not believing in or listening to what is larger than themselves, is that not correct? but it is hard to go between the two, and be believed in neither place, that you were really there, were really a part of the world on the other side of the veil, even if it was only for a while. Even if you are "here" now. To not care about another person's past is a mean thing, and to imply that *they* should not care either, is even meaner. I've had that attitude cast upon me for a long time now. i can find no one who really gives me the chance to explain; it takes a story of massive and almost heartbreaking shock-value about the place, for anyone to pay attention, to believe that i am talking about a place that is, yes really is, both different from this one and actually really there. we seem to have a chronic inability to believe, that what we cannot see right in front of us with our own eyes, is actually real. This seems to be the case in more places than one... We also can't seem to understand that anywhere on the actual physical planet earth, really is actually different from this place that we are in, this part of it that we are in right here and now. we think we know what the world is like from having lived in it. we do not. the only thing we should have learned by now, is that we can't know anything about the world, just from having lived here.


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