It's going to get very real, very soon. And also wet. It might even smell of fish.
You see, I just resigned to go to another bee hive. But that's not important. What's important is that I get 10 days. 10 glorious, shiny, full of possibility days between these things they call "jobs". And it somehow coincides with the beginning of summer, the defeat of winter. Isn't coincidence a wonderful thing?
What's also important is that we've decided to unleash our inner kerouacs and go on a road trip. To catch a beach town while driving on a sea-side road. Step onto cobbled streets, eat with the local fishermen, swim in their seas, watch their sunsets, drink with their blessings. That kind of thing.
Someplace much removed from Morrissey's "Everyday is Like Sunday" seaside town. Someplace much out of an artists biased potrait of everyday small town living.
It's not completely "on the road" I will admit, marred as it is with a little planning thrown in. It's the price you pay for living in a foreign land.
And yes it's a boring thing. The being planned.
But worry not, we will throw caution to the wind. Without abandon we will.
So if you see a small rented car, going east from new york, with two, smiling like the dickens people, yell us on and if you want postcards, drop your address in the backseat.