I think about moving. Leaving DC. Escape. Getting away from the rush, the angry people, the crippled commuters, the twisted women, the broken souls. I weigh my options for relocation. Where do I see myself? If I give myself over to fantasy, then the answer is easy. I want to be in Brampton in the north of England. I want a townhouse in Brasov, Romania. I want to live in a seaside apartment in Puerto de Santa Maria in Spain.<\/p>\n
But that is just fantasy. It\u2019s a sort of sea-change that won\u2019t happen unless I\u2019m actually skilled in something, or loaded to the gills with money. My relocation plans must be more grounded\u2026 And, so, thank god for the occasional voice of wisdom from my old college friend James.
\n<\/p>\n
James and I go back to the early 90\u2019s. I don\u2019t know if either of us had learned anything since then but, when in doubt, and when in fear, he was there. I suppose that\u2019s what friends are all about.<\/p>\n
My 36 years on this planet have been marked by pain, horror, disappointment, and anger. I blame it on the American attitude. I blame it on ex-friends, ex-lovers, supervisors, co-workers, commuters\u2026 I say it\u2019s they who have sickened me. It\u2019s they who have poisoned my soul. Who have turned me from my path.<\/p>\n
As my debts are slowly paid off, and as I again see the light at the end of the tunnel and the chance for financial freedom, my mind starts to race. I can leave this place. I can restart my life. I can do anything I want.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s not just financial freedom I work for. It\u2019s total freedom. I\u2019ve worked hard, I\u2019ve scrimped and saved, I\u2019ve sacrificed, and, now, I\u2019m only $19,000 away from telling everyone to fucking go to hell. You\u2019ve all betrayed me. You\u2019ve all used me and hurt me and led me on and robbed me and cheated me. All because I\u2019m a fucking nice guy.<\/p>\n
I really do blame America. I deny this country. I regret every moment I\u2019m here. So I dream of moving overseas. And it\u2019s James who drags me back from the sky.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is America, Nacho.\u201d He says after ten beers and several shots of gin. \u201cThis is who we are. You think you can run from it? Bury yourself in a soccer game on TV in some British pub? Lose yourself atop a turret of some Spanish castle? Run your hands along an ancient fortification in Romania and call to mind long dead empires? Stand on a rocky Scottish seashore, trapped in your own dreaming head?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not about that,\u201d I try to argue. \u201cIt\u2019s about belonging\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBelonging? What the fuck are you talking about? You were born in the capitol of this empire. In this era. Here and now. You\u2019re not some old soul, some misplaced creature. You are an American, your family has been here since the 1600\u2019s. You are an alien in any other land. You cannot turn from your heritage. You can\u2019t excuse it, you can\u2019t avoid it\u2026 You can\u2019t hyphenate it. It\u2019s just American. No matter where you came from originally, that\u2019s who you are today. This is where you belong.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stood up, poured gin into his empty glass of beer and leaned towards me, \u201cWe should be proud of it. We shouldn\u2019t seek to qualify who we are. \u2018Scottish-American,\u2019 \u2018Irish-American,\u2019 \u2018Chinese-American.\u2019 \u2018African-American,\u2019 whatever the fuck that means. I think that\u2019s nothing more than a euphemism for nigger. Native American is redskin. Barbarian. We are all native Americans.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe \u2018hyphenated\u2019 American is not a way to identify our heritage or culture. It\u2019s simply an affectation created by racists, murderers, and fascists. We all embrace it because we\u2019re uneducated and we do as we\u2019re told. We all accept the idea that we can and should stand apart. We think the Irish and Italian ghettos of the early 20th century, as portrayed in Hollywood, are romantic. We think that there is division in America. And that we should be proud of it. But qualifying yourself as, say, an \u2018Irish-American\u2019 family, is no better than just going out there and lynching a nigger, shooting an indian, kicking a fag to death. It\u2019s passive, but just as evil. Just as wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou believe that?\u201d I asked him.<\/p>\n
He grinned, drank, raised an eyebrow and shrugged. \u201cWhat can I say? That\u2019s also America. Believe what you will. But when it comes time for you to run, don\u2019t do so blindly. There are places where you belong, and they exist not because you adopt them or emulate them, but because they are, simply, where you belong.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFollow my heart?\u201d<\/p>\n
James nodded. \u201cYes. Always.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo matter the cost?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat cost is there? Life or death. And, if death, then thank god. That means it\u2019ll all be over and you can relax.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAmen to that.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I think about moving. Leaving DC. Escape. Getting away from the rush, the angry people, the crippled commuters, the twisted women, the broken souls. I weigh my options for relocation. Where do I see myself? If I give myself over …<\/p>\n