a terrifying question, or it has become one. in my salad days i slept in the backseat of a greyhound bus all the way across canada, the place where smokers could still smoke. and crossing turkey by train, i slept in the luggage rack watching the folks below me parcel out food and play music. what has happened to my resilience? why do i have to plan ahead at least a week, maybe more.
no, i am a fake nomad. true, our family moved 32 times by the time i left high-school. and i've had to move 110 times to and from the lookout, not always knowing where i'd land in the winter. going to australia last year taught me a lesson. after 16 years of no travelling, i'd lost my travel skills. so i went back the next year to practice them. i worked. i could now sleep soundly with other bodies breathing around me.
i'd done it in coast guard boot camp and on the ship. i'd lived on trains in europe with my pass, locking the compartment door and stretching out over empty seats. of course, i lost my taste for this when the girl across from me did the same and had her pocket picked, not to mention the time i woke to find algerian guys going through my luggage.
why do i now need a secure sleep? ah, lack of sleep one of the worst aging events, and i remember how the soviets changed prisoners characters by keeping them awake for two weeks with bright lights and loud sounds. going to sleep under the best circumstances means leaving my control behind. essentially insomnia comes from thinking constantly: how am i going survive? the dark-minded philosopher cioran couldn't sleep and spent his paris nights walking all over the place.
even after having six vw buses and sleeping on beaches, in the woods and suburbs, i don't seem to have kept that particular capacity for adventure. in fact, i realized this made me feel too lonely and i abandoned the process. swearing i would never have another vehicle in which i could hibernate.
and this makes me wonder how the homeless do it. they do band together like hobos during the depression, sitting in bands at the downtown plaza, there always seems to be company, as well as a lot of arguments. a friend has a step-son who can sleep in ditches anywhere. in a catastrophe, could i do the same? perhaps if exhausted enough.
despite my many peregrinations i come back to being terrified of being homeless. i couldn't waste my time on the computer, or even have the peace of mind to read. i could daydream. that's a luxury i've always allowed myself. yet it's hard to relax enough if i have wolves howling at the door. maybe as the end gets closer, i want to avoid as many deaths as possible.
