On the road. Discovering who This New Man is.
Movies, stories, journals, diaries have to start somewhere.
I know this, everyone does.
I know now what it feels like to have one’s wheels rolling against the daily road, but is feeling movement the same as understanding one’s trip?
Movement might make something seem too simple. We’re toward the end of our adventure, having been at so many stopping and starting places, and I actually think the movement might have made me more afraid sometimes than I was at the beginning.
The story of my change — of our change, two guys and two dogs — is so big. It was January 3 2013. I left things undone in the town where my life seemed settled, and now I have pictures, notes, random posts, and endless Tweets, all waiting to form a story, a different beginning. But where does a new life story begin at a time when everything can be recorded, remembered?
Is it possible for my characters in this adventure to have too many choices? Could we have started something so large that it keeps us from seeing where it started?
Before we left California, ready for any route ahead, we thought the plots would come together like a soap opera, each day’s snippet waiting for and leading us to the next. The road told us — well, I know it told me! — something different, and now I find myself struggling to do justice to my collection of what I am and what I can be.
It seems like it might’ve time to find out.
Cultura, Salud, Sexo, Viajes LGBTQA
San Francisco Fashion
a blog to complement: "Memory Lake: The Forever Friendships of Summer," an award winning novel-memoir
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