The Road Traveled

Last night, the second earthquake in four days woke me, both about 20km north of here. I’m in my new studio apartment on Vivian Street, next door to a legal brothel, in the heart of downtown Wellington with afternoon sunbeams and views up the hill to the university. I arrived back from the U.S. on Monday, scrambled to find a new place to live, taught the first of a 12-week Practical Aesthetics acting class at Wellington Actor’s Studio Tuesday night, audited a Film History and Criticism class on Wednesday, taught the first of a 10-week Beginning Adult Acting class that same night, then woke up early Thursday and rode a bus out to Miramar where I did voiceover work for a Cirque du Soleil 3-D movie then audited a Film Analysis class in the afternoon.

I left Wellington February 3rd, flew to San Francisco, stayed in a little hotel downtown, had pancakes at dusty diner, reconnected with old friends in North Beach, savored Snow Crab legs with La Roja, then flew to Austin, where I hiked to the top of Enchanted Rock, strolled along Town Lake with mi amigo Hugo Perez, rode out to the Horse Boy ranch in Elgin, bar-hopped on the East Side, ate barbeque in Llano, then ventured onward to Florida. Every step along the journey home, I was reminded that I am not, as I have sometimes felt living on an island in the middle of the South Pacific, a scrap of windblown flannel caught on a barbed-wire fence, but rather I am grounded in love and buoyed by beauty. At the Florida State Fair, I ate a caramel apple, a corn dog, deep-fried Oreos and strawberry shortcake; I stumbled through funhouses, rode neon rides, petted barnyard animal, and gawked at the freak show. I toasted marshmallows in a backyard fire, swam in the Gulf of Mexico, kayaked round sunny mangroves, and paddled down the Hillsborough River at dawn. I staged a Return of the Red Hot Nutsack at Silver Meteor Gallery in Ybor City, watched movies and plays with friends, and went on the Don Cesar Ghost Tour.

Sometimes people say that they envy my adventures, and that I am living the life they wish they had. If you really want this life, pack your bags and walk out the door. It’s that easy. The harder and perhaps more fulfilling life is one of commitment to people and places and love. I am trying to have both. Last night, before the earth started shaking, I began reading Patti Smith’s book, Just Kids, a gift from a friend in Florida. In the introduction, she quotes a line from Puccini’s opera Tosca: “I have lived for love, I have lived for art.” I may not have learned much thus far, but I have learned this: life is short, and there is nothing more important than love. Everything else is just a story we create to pass the time. But oh, what sad and beautiful stories!