City Life

31 05 2008

Life in a city is strange and unsettling after years in the country. It’s not intimidating, really, because I’m fairly adaptive, like most people my age. I can go from laid-back country boy to wound-up city guy in about five minutes. The thing is, it’s odd being so fucking close to everything.

 

If I wanted to go anywhere substantial in Moulton, I had to drive a minimum of ten miles in any direction to get there. Want to go to the movies? Fifty-five miles, one-way. Want to got the mall? Forget about it—sixty-seven miles, one-way, and into a town of inconsiderate assholes. Eventually, I just stayed at home and did without. Who needs new shoes or pants when the actual acquisition is so difficult?

 

Now, it’s like bam, and I’m there. Movies? Across town. Mall? Up the highway a few miles, and into an enormous sprawling metropolis of a consumer’s paradise. I can even walk less than three miles—actually, less than ¼ of a mile, but to keep things in a frame of reference, we’ll say three—to buy cigarettes or beer. I don’t know how well I can cope with this new proximity. I feel like I’m suddenly smack in the middle of everything important.

 

I can even have food delivered, if I so choose.

 

What’s even weirder than having all of this city life so close at hand is the fact that I am less than a mile from a beautiful, crisp, swimmable river. All that time in Moulton, and I think I went swimming once…in Rockport, 130 miles away. I just got back from the river earlier, and used probably ten cents worth of gas. I don’t even have to worry about snakes or amoebas, since the water’s so cold and fast-moving. Fuck yes. 

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