(found by the white picket fence in front of the old Methodist church)
I don’t even know where I’m going, let alone how to goddamn get there. All you questions all the time. I can’t even begin to answer them. I think and think and think, but I get absolutely nowhere. It just bugs me sometimes. Where was I walking, anyway?
Jeez, you know? I can go absolutely anywhere. I can follow any path. I can make my own. I always wanted to go up one of those hills around Spruce Run, around the pond over there. But I just never figured out how to get there. I just never figured out where to go to get there.
So, I don’t know, you start trudging. You put your head down. You end up at Round Valley with everyone else. You end up struggling to find a spot on the shore of the lake because the lakeshore got so goddamn crowded.
But you’re there, and you walked all the way to get there. But you don’t even want to be there! You know? I mean, I don’t even want to be there. I mean, I don’t really want to be there. But it’s where I am, and it’s good enough. But it’s not good enough. It’s just better than anywhere else. But it’s not better than anywhere else. It’s just better than moving again.
So you sit down. Whatever, right? That’s all there is to it. You sit down.
Gosh, my feet hurt. I wore the wrong shoes. I didn’t wear the right walking shoes. I just wore these old sandals. Goddamn it, George.
But what can you do? The Jervis sisters brought an old beatbox, and the music they’re playing is good enough. I mean, it’s not good enough, but it is better than anything else on the radio right now. I mean, it’s not better than anything else, but it is better than getting up and yelling at them to change the station.
So it’s good enough.