Stratford

Today's blog is short for I am back in my unexamined indifference or the attempt of it. Of course that is a lie- the unexamined indifference.  Tired worries resurrected. Toil resumed.

We've been back in the US for two days and I'm ready to go to Ontario.  This is serious stuff for it's a six hour drive but always worth it.  I can't explain why I feel so comfortable in Canada perhaps it's just being away, not cooking, doing chores, and being entertained with no strings.

We'll check out what plays are available- I know Midsummer Night's Dream and Macbeth are being performed. Some may say, but you've seen both of those a dozen times (probably more) done in a dozen different ways. Why would you travel to see Shakespeare- simply it's live theatre and in live theatre the audience participates, each performance new and never before nor after to be repeated. Art in the making, flowing, live with a working knowledge of the text, so familiar that one is able to hear without listening, to see without looking, to enjoy.  Being in Canada and seeing plays reminds me of sex- it's always different, always wonderful. One feels as one did the first time one truly made love, not necessarily sex but the act with meaning.  

We've recuperated, feel strong and are willing to take a new adventure. I'm a fool but traveling and being in a new place feels good, particularly at Strattford where we nestle into a hotel room, walk to a play, eat cheaply at Tim Horton's (Canada's Wendys), go to  spa,  pool, peruse stores and breathe. 

Two days home and tired of driving.  Simple chores, going to grocery store, getting a haircut are unsettling. Traffic obscene in every sense. Tired of the same small cares, the rounds.  At first, being home seems so wonderful after the bustle of travel, a new bed every night, hauling body and baggage.  Then it relaxes into tedium, an unglamorous set rut.  While away, all faces are new, local tragedies unimportant, politics no more important than a  glass of orange or grapefruit juice. Whatever whim satisfies against an unimposing back drop.  Floating away, flying away, going away all vehicles of insouciant disconnect.  Gladly adopting every new city

without commitment. The cities themselves whores to the traveler's desire, forgotten or remembered but not real, surface only. No musts!