I woke up this morning and couldn’t for the life of me find the cover to the steaming part of my new cappuchino machine. It threw me completely off-balance, just that little thing. And I’m suppose to *survive* in Britain on my own for a week and out of my comfort zone. Maybe I should rethink the whole thing. Plane tickets presently are 1400 dollars. My car is leaking almost a quart of oil a day. We need *lots* of work on the house (not that I’d do that kind of work if I stayed here, but you never know…). I’m scared to drive over there, and a car would cost an additional hundreds of dollars. But I think I need a car still… not sure how I’d handle buses.
Not that I’m not convinced we shouldn’t go over there later in life for months at a time. I’m *convinced* we *will*. But maybe not this time, not for 2 weeks.
But then again I feel the whole collage process of the past 2+ months has been pushing me toward the trip. I *have* to go. Yet I’m not sure I’ll survive mentally. I just wouldn’t enjoy it enough. I think I was suppose to go this far in the planning and then back out. That’s a lot of money for a plane ticket — the next trip will most likely be cheaper 3 years down the road. If I back out then I can take days off now — get out in the woods in the middle of the day. This cold weather is driving us both bonkers. I want to *hike*. Last year at this time I was on about my 3rd woodsy mythology story.
But then again I’m very pleased with the collage process I’m on the outer edges of now. I should finish a Lis interpretation this week. The collages themselves seem to be completed — 36 of ’em (!) I have my virtual gallery all set up with supporting galleries around it, all for about 18 dollars a month rent (given up my premium Second Life account — not sure if I’ll ever go back to that).
So I think that’s it — I’ve thought and thought and *thought* about Wiltshire, but am not sure I can take the step to physically going over there right now. I had to trick myself into thinking I was going.
Unless *this* is the trick.
My guess is that it’ll take me weeks to readjust to the US of A. *Your* US of A. Amereca. I live in a virtual paradise within your country, an oasis. That’s the only way I can stand it. You have your poison ivy, your blacksnakes, your red ants. Your *heat*. Your greenways crowded with people because they’re very few public paths really for such a *lot* of open space still in this country. And houses on top of mountains — no: *cities*. Yes, there’s a *town* being built on the mountain directly in front of our porch, stretching from left to right as far as the eye can see. So if I have to save a little money to get out of here for a number of months *later* then it’s worth it. I *know* I have to go. “But baker,” I can hear you say, “Britain will have its problems too. There’s a lot of people and much less land. You don’t like people, baker.” No, I don’t. Not that I hate people but they annoy me. I think *mentally* I understand that the girls and the boys of the US of A are just trying the best they can in their own way. Many of them, esp. the younger ones of the children people, don’t understand the world is falling apart around them like rotting fruit. People are not healthy any longer. Commercials of our — your — tv tell us the joys of eating food full of refined sugar and flour. Grocery stores line their shelves with Pepsi and Coke and Gatorade. Something is wrong here folks. It was different when people raised their own food, however harder the process was to get the food to your plate in the first place. We lived closer to the land. Not that I’m a big hippie freak and want everything to revert back to the 18th Century. I can’t do without my flush toilets, for one thing.
So, yeah, I want to go to Britain where they care about their past and preserve their land with their right-of-ways. Not that they haven’t been just as savage as Amerecans are presently, just that they seem to be more beyond all that macho posturing, shall we say, now that they’re not *the* world superpower, and clearly will never be in that particular leadership role again. Civilized — yeah, it seems more civilized over there, the way it should be. A show like Luxury Comedy would *never* air on prime time television over here. All we watch any more is British tv and cult American comedy quite far away from the 8-10 prime slots. 12 Oz Mouse is a work of genius, but even with a miniscule budget that creative juggernaut was cancelled after 2 short seasons.
I look down the list of movies and tv shows and music that I like. I’ll give Amerecans the edge on movies, probably simply because they churn out so many and there’s bound to be a collection of good ones within. British, like I’ve implied, clearly have the edge in popular TV. Their music is also top rate, and least the popular stuff. Granted again that their classical composers have equals in other countries, and it is in this area I may champion more some, gag, *French* exports like Satie and Messiaen. I seem to be so British underneath the surface that I have an irrational hatred of the French… no other, real reason for it to be there.
So I’ve spouted on enough. Back to collage interpretation.
Sunklands 