Like the protagonist of Jimmy Buffett's Cowboy in the Jungle, I haven't yet made it to where I thought I would be. I've talked about this phenomenon here before (see Gotta get away from this day to day running around from, uh, eight years ago), and maybe my angst about this is simply a byproduct of what my old Imaginary Friend the Philalawyer calls the soft alcoholism of early middle age. The feeling does seem to appear most frequently between my second and third Bushmills, after all.
But I don't think so. And although I know that I may currently be stuck here in Portobello, I am certain that the pampas of Paraguay await -- I just need to figure out how to get there from here. Stay tuned.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment