Getting out of town is not the same as traveling.
A long-weekend trip seems to be a chance to eyeball the scenery and that is about it, especially when you're going somewhere familiar.
The place seems to get reduced down to whatever happens to be running though your mind at the time.
It's like traveling though a coloring book, for the most part the outlines are already there while the colors you can use are determined by your state of mind.
Welcome to Aberdeen, "Come As You Are"…. thats what the sign says anyway.
Having just watched "About A Son" it's difficult to do much here without imagining a young Kurt Cobain drifting around these streets, biding his time, waiting for his chance to get out.
I'm currently reading my way through an account of a Kayaker exploring the Yukon River in Alaska.
It is filled with anecdotes of frontier bravado and self-reliant fortitude.
So my own suburban existence has been called into question as my mind leads some kind of moral interrogation of my essentially suburban character.
A fist got slammed down in that interview as I found myself in Aberdeen's Walmart at 11pm shopping for the can opener and other essentials I had forgotten to pack.
And as I searched the aisles I couldn't help but think that every straggly haired kid I saw was just biding their time, waiting to get out of here, too.
