The Internet does its best to remind me that I’ll always be living in the present, the future. As far away from civilization as we can get, it seems, as far away as an American in their homeland can be, none of us can escape the invisible waves and stringy wires that bring the world to us wherever we go. I know everything, because my knowledge is only limited by the seconds it takes me to access Wikipedia. I’m never alone, because I can catch up with old friends on Facebook without them ever knowing I’ve even caught up.
But it is, of course, lonely at times. The city can be a lonesome place, but cities are notorious for attracting people who love the idea of a place that affords them the luxuries of a city. When asked why one lives in the city, the answer is often “Well, I just love having so much to do.” But of course, very few people often do anything other than going out to eat and drink. Museums sit proportionally empty to your average bar room, which are often packed too tightly to fit a single styrofoam peanut in after 9pm or so. You can drive a UPS truck through a museum blindfolded and never hit anyway, on most days. No, people don’t love cities because they have things to do, but because they provide the availability of things to do. We like to know we can, even if we never want to.
So is the situation here. While a city can be lonesome, you always have the opportunity to interact. There have been several times out here where I couldn’t find a soul to sit with. And that’s a good thing, much of the time. I imagine most people who move to a place like Marathon do so to get away from everyone else, everything else. Unfortunately, you can’t get away from anything anymore. The Internet is always there to bring it back to you, and by now I’ve grown an addiction stronger than nicotine to the websites, to reading about various whatever on Wikipedia. To letting the Onion give me my news. To Google Reading. To checking my email every 15 seconds to see if anything more interesting than a student loan bill and Monday’s work might show up.
Maybe Mexico is the only place left in North America where you can still get away.
Up Next: Sea Moan