Even with all the ‘i heart-ness’ I harbor for New York City, I dig the woods… note how I don’t say ‘country’… because areas that are too country like the Boonsville Scaryland where no one has teeth and extra fingers and toes frighten me.
I grew up running around barefoot outside eating dirt, climbing, trees, and shooting frogs with a bb gun (which I still feel bad about, bloody Yanks and guns). Therefore, the forest is just something else that makes me feel home.
Lucky for me but unlucky for my Dad, he didn’t catch any fish yesterday. I’ve grown soft in my older years, I can’t even hook worms anymore. The last time my old man caught a fish was on the beach in Jersey last summer and I had to go hide my face because it made me cry… now that is soft.
As a writer I get equal inspiration from both NYC and New England forests, which is probably why after seven years away I was overcome with MUST GO NOW and bounced back over here so quick. I think we’re all sensitive to environment to a degree, which is part of why I’m doing all that I can to stay a-waaaaay from offices containing fat men yelling in my face every day. Writing, exploring, and being around people I love seems to be much more agreeable to my health…
… now all I have to do if figure out a way to survive doing this. Why couldn’t I have just been a lawyer… or rap star?