Journey Into the Gentle Wilderness of Love

2 - Into the Gentle Wilderness of Love

The Pet Shop Boys' MyOctober Symphony was trying it's very darnest to appease anunquenched urge clawing at my heart, an insidious venom deep withinmy soul seeping through every fiber of my being, when the absolutebeyond reasonably stupid urge to get the fuck away hit me like a sackof bricks finally giving in the inescapable laws of physics as thecord which had been holding it saw it's last strand snap. Just snap.Bam! Collision! Fatality. Enlightenment. Glorious deliverance.Granted – the sack of bricks came with some advantages my dearlydeparted mother left me, easing my mind, my overthinking mind andgiving me this resolutely forbidden freedom she had not dared admitto herself she had craved for, her whole life. She settled in acomfortable life, against her own nature, as did my sister who onlydreamed of travels and far away countries. Was I the same ? Or werewe just making bad decisions and sticking out bad outcomes forexcuses to glorify and justify acquired comfort ? With my inheritancemoney, I first rented a house with the option of buying – had myheart change the fickleness of it's easily sway-able temperament anddecide to settle down. It was a cute little house in a nice cozy village far away from the city – as I had longed for some time,having managed to quiet the howling screams in my heart, mind andsoul for as long as I rationally could, given my previouscircumstances. I packed the boxes of my material chains, hired amoving company and left the boxes there, in various stacks, topermeate the new place; almost like adopting a new pet and lettingthe old pet sniff the new tenant to make acquaintances. I set up thestrict necessary; bed, table, most basic kitchen needs; a coupleplates, two soup bowls, two spoons, two forks, allowing myself afalse sense of luxury and stability by doubling the strictest ofnecessities. And I wondered why I wasn't ... establishing myself in amore proper, durable, anchoring manner. Would it take me anotherbloody eight months to unpack and ... another year to startdecorating ? I loved the house, the quiet retreat – the isolation,the peace. I had even learned to drive and operated an old car to getfrom home to groceries or other necessities to which I couldn't selfprovide. A miracle of the Gods! And so one fine night, under thegentle rule of Hecate, under the full moon, I opened my 11 millionthtab on Chrome and my fingers got lost in a fiery passionate trans onthe keyboard. Instead of October though, it would be My SeptemberSymphony and with that strong resolve in mind, I was shockinglyaccepting the curious yet satisfyingly comforting oddity of mebooking a flight for Alaska of all places. I suppose my wildadventurous side was taking a break for not having me furiouslylusting after the Mongolian planes for which it has so many times inthe past.

Along with saidflight, Delta, of course, I also booked a cozy little cabin by alake, already seeing myself being the absolute uncaring idiot I amcapable of being at the peak of "I don't give a single solitaryfuck" and either skinny dipping under a full moon or justwalking straight into cold September Alaskan lake water.... What everthat temperature may be. The cabin itself was a sort of... Air B'Bbut not quite. It was listed as rentable for a week, two weeks, amonth or up to three months, but maintenance was the tenant'sresponsibility. Breakage or anything out of the ordinaryfunctionality has to be promptly, on the spot, advised and reportedto the owner. I had missed this guest house sort of experience fromsouth Korea, but this deemed the next level, as the owner was livingclose to town and this was a fee miles out, a half a day walk, halfan hour by car. By Alaskan logic, standards and logistics, somehow,an hour car drive equated to 5 to 6 hours of walk... This definitelywasn't Montréal, which arose the question of my transportation fromthe Juno airport to said remote cabin in the wilderness. I had tocheck-in in at the latest at 9pm that evening, which... By anystretch of the imagination, was either an impossibility or a bit of acomplication. I didn't feel comfortable with the responsibility of acar, on top of the cabin for a month, and I wanted as much aspossible to walk or bike. Silly modern strong independent womanmentality, I suppose. Or just the retarded ego of a twat-wafflewanting to be off the grid.

"You're not in NewYork, Missy." The cabin owner had texted me as he was inquiringabout my transportation means to get to his cabin to sign theregistry and check in. I knew that. But i didn't know the exactextent of how... tricky... getting around would be. The wildernesshaving it's own temperament, rules, traditions, ways of existing andbending or yielding foreigners to it's will and representation.