I'm back on the airwaves (internet breakers).
The tourism industry was once the next big thing - and then bad stuff happened, we destroyed natural reserves, flights got expensive, awkward and generally hellish. I enjoy being felt up by a butch-looking security guard dreaming about Henry's (that's Henry VIII) passion for extra toes.
Now man has built islands, giant sail-buildings, privately financed rockets and crystal stemware.
There is one form of tourism that is cheap, reliable and a wild ride. It doesn't require you to prep a picnic basket or bring helmets for the bike ride (happy) montage. I'm talking about looking within.
You don't need to look for Oedipal complexes, worry about having married your brother's wife (again with the Henry thing), or preoccupy yourself with the possible craving for fava beans (Clarice).
I did this myself. And came to several, if wildly unconnected and inconsequential conclusions so allow me yet another moment of self-indulgence.
-I physically hate black jelly beans. I like drawing a line connecting a scatterplot's data points. I write about what I know. I know very little so I write a lot. I drag on singly interesting points into interesting conversations. I have memories, both terrible and great that I wish never to forget. I question the silly things like the phrase "Down the rabbit hole". I inform people that the mad-hatter was mad because of the mercury in the hats' lining. I listen to songs obsessively. I can have the mind of a hipster and a pop-culture snob and a geek of the fourth dimension. Se habla espanhol.
Perhaps its that being home gives me a perspective that I sometimes lose. I like being grounded once in a while - taking the plane - or the ship as Romeo used to say - off of auto-pilot and braving the runway on my own.
It's an interview with the id? ego? superego?
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