The New Frontier

“How’s it going man?” the burly bartender sporting an outrageous 19th century imperial mustache asked. Despite the warm, informal greeting, this man was a stranger, however I appreciated his attempt to make me feel at home. Feeling at home, ha! My head is spinning. If I were a car I’d be overdue for a service considering the miles I've clocked this year. Another assignment, another city, another bar. Every face I encounter stained with impermanence, a deep-rooted sense that these passing gazes will never be seen by my eyes again.

“How did you get down there?” asked a woman sitting on top of a metre-high sandbank on the beach. “What do you mean? How did you get up there?” I retorted. “Huh? I uh, I was born on this side…” she said confused. She could easily hop down on to the wet sand, so I didn't take her question too seriously. I turned away as my feet ploughed the sand and the fine sea mist wet face. It had taken some effort to come here, after a while you get tired of checking out the sights. Sometimes you just want to sit in your hotel room in your underwear and write a blog. It will have been a year soon that I left my home and still I’m no closer to finding a new one. Where is home?

“How can you say, I go about things the wrong way? I am human and I need to be loved. Just like everybody else does.” The Smiths sang on the radio as I drove back to my hotel in my brand new red rental car. One hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the sun visor, constantly adjusting it to maximise my view of the road while blocking the setting sun from my sight as the trees and the two-story buildings crawled by.

“Use the left two lanes to turn left onto Main Street. Turn left onto Main Street.” my navigator told me in an almost sexy feminine voice. A sense of fleeing comes over me. Why do I feel like I’m always running away? “What is the next move?” I asked myself. Not even a year in and you want to move again. The law of diminishing returns, every new home lasts less than the last one. To what end? Nomad. Wanderer. Where is home? Enough moving, stand and fight. The next move will be homewards. I just need a destination.

I know what you're thinking: small pool. Outrageous.