Warm nights are absolutely glorious.
I arrived in Tucson less than 12 hours ago. 12 hours ago, I had no idea what this place would look like, and here I am, the place, the people, the lives going on.
Me, I'm just a ghost floating through. No one knows I just arrived, no one knows I don't belong here. No one knows me, who I am, or what I'm about. I've never seen these streets before. It's surreal, it could be maddening.
I have this fear of completely detaching from reality without even noticing it. For example, maybe I'd be in my car and stopped at a red light. The light changes green, but I don't see it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm sitting at a red light, waiting for it to change. Cars honk, people curse, police come, and I'm just still there sitting in my car waiting for the light to change.
Why do I play these little games with myself? Coming to Tucson is a game. It was supposed to be this big deal to see if I want to move here, but moving here is just not part of my plans. August. No San Francisco. No Tucson. This mind game of intending one thing, but acting like I intend something totally different. What the hell am I doing here? Why? Why, why, why? What am I doing? What am I doing? What do I think I'm doing?
I came because that's what I was telling everyone. But I didn't have to. I could have reneged and said, "eh, I decided it was a bad idea". I mean, come on, Tucson, no one would have been surprised. No one cares what I do or whether I go or move to Tucson or not. But here I am. I did need the road trip.
Tucson, Arizona, from Sentinel Peak Park.
