a fast ferry

Run Away

There’s a need to say something—but what?

That I’ve run away from home again?

That I’m trying to figure out why Pablo Fanques Fair was such a scene?

That the scree and other debris that gets in my shoes is really comforting?


I’ve run away from home on a fast ferry!

I’m picking off a dozen deer ticks before I get the Lyme bullseye rash.

I don’t want the Lyme. I don’t want the Covid.

I left my neighborhood for another neighborhood—pictures tomorrow.

Stay tuned—more news at 11.

What I’m Reading:

“I am here not only to evade for a while the clamor and filth and confusion of the cultural apparatus but also to confront, immediately and directly if it’s possible, the bare bones of existence, the elemental and fundamental, the bedrock which sustains us.”

— Edward Abbey / Desert Solitaire

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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