Saturday, July 28, 2012

"So it is no wonder that the mass of people regard the wanderer as a cross between a romantic vagabond and an irresponsible semi-ne'er-do-well who can't - or won't - fit in. Which is not to say that those who are fated to stay at home and toe the line do not look at the wander with envy and, yes, even awe, for he is doing what they would like to be doing, and something tells them they will never do it unless they either "strike it rich" or retire - and once retirement rolls around, chances are it will be too late. They know that too.....
It would be remiss if I didn't add that if you want to wander, you're going to have to work at it and give up the one thing that most non-wanders prize so highly - the illusion of security. I say"illusion" because the most "secure" people I've encountered are, when when you come right down to it, the least secure once they have been removed from job and home and bank account. While those unfortunate enough to be locked into some despised and unrewarding job are even worse off. And if I have been favored with good luck all down through the years, I can also quickly single out scores of men and women spread around this beleaguered old world who, without "luck" have managed to live lives of freeedom and adventure (that curious word) beyond the wildest dreams of the stay-at-homes who, when fresh out of school, opted for that great destoyer of men's souls, security....
"They never taught wandering in any school I attended. They never taught the art of sailing a vessel, either. Or that of writing a book. It's all so mysterious and - yes- enchanting. And that is what I suppose this book is all about. For whatever its merits, I would like to think that there is just as much of frustration and failure (call it lostness if you will) as there is of the free-swinging, far-rolling time when, however rough the going, you have the feeling, F*** it! I wouldn't swap places with anyone else for anything on this earth.
Which is how I feel now, aged sixty-one and still more or less broke, slowing down in some ways and picking up steam in others, still with a roller skate on one foot and an ice skate on the other, yet only too well aware of the wisdom of the words...-Sterling Hayden
To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea... cruising it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

I've always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can't afford it." What these men can't afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of security. And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine - and before we know it our lives are gone.

What does a man need - really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in - and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all - in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life.
Sterling Hayden

Friday, July 27, 2012

I cannot wait, to unleash the line, that is to tie me to you.
Our  departure date is July 5, 2015. Plenty of time for the remaining screwheads to diddly fuck the rest of this country, as we silently slide across the waves.
I don’t know if anyone else has gone through this, yet I suppose more than I can imagine. I speak from a man’s perspective as it is the only one I know. I will turn 53 years old in the fall, and I am noticing some changes that require address. I am not the man I used to be today and I accept, even enjoy the “older” version of me. Finally.
I have been working, as a lot have, since  I was thirteen. That’s 40 years of working steadily. 40 years of bosses, supervisors, shift leaders, sergeants, officers, managers… (it’s also 40 years of not enjoying working; being talked down to, insulted, screamed at and ignored…as someone else’s employee. ) I fully concede that I have not been a model employee, rarely “good” but at a minimum reliable and consistent. At other occasions a total liability to the company…I get it, I’m not easy to work with.
The point is I’m done. It’s been coming on for a couple of years. I’ve lost a step, the energy level is slowed way down and it’s just hard to get excited about someone else’s drama…maybe I’m unemployable...Really, has it come to that? I hope not…I’m sure I will have to work, in some fashion, the rest of my life, but it’s up to me, at this point in my life to choose where that may be.
I am looking at the remaining years of my life and am grateful I have the ability to choose where and how I wish to spend my later years, as so many unfortunates do not. That is truly a blessing, relieving someone of the care giving I may require on down the road. I can care for myself, until I can’t, and if my toes are in the sand, with a breeze in my hair…I made it.

This is my journal, describing my departure from the work-a-day world . Fuck that. Fuck you Corporate America, I am through.

We have determined our destination to be St. Croix,USVI. We will purchase a sailboat in either Kemah, or Clearlake Texas and take the vessel from there along the coast northeast and down the coast of Florida then back up to the Bahamas and Island hop down to St Croix, US Virgin Islands where we will charter out the boat for sunset dinner cruises… My brother, a much more experienced sailor than I,( but I can hold my own,) will sail with us, protecting his baby brother, lol.
In the words of my brother, “Just because YOU think it’s fun, doesn’t mean it’s SAFE.”
He loves me.

This blog is a journal of getting from here, Dallas. TX,and  hustling food to two years later, hustling sundown dreams.Welcome aboard.