This time it's in rural Pennsylvania. A few hours from Pittsburg and five hours south of where I once lived in New York. Once again part of the army of men extracting carbon fuels we go to war over and can not seem to ween ourselves from. On a well site chocked with iron; a labyrinth of high pressure, sand, and chemicals..the constant grind of gears on gears of fuel compressed into ignition and the small explosions of power overcoming upward force. If I ever knew a place I did not belong it would be here.
Most days I am alone for fifteen hours a day. Enough time to delve into those dark places of the mind one seldom goes without the aid of rye. Today my mind goes back to Europe: a mosaic of memories not too distant. I think of a small town where I sat on the shore of the Adriatic contemplating Homer and why I was there. Then onto a town in central Austria rowing a small boat into the mountains...pure reflections on silent water. There in these memories of beautiful places I find emptiness. An emptiness forged from half truths and if I'm honest a mental pathology I have yet to accept.
Once again in this industry. Probably chosen to inflict my own chastisement, create the instrument of my own penance. This is where I come for punishment. My father created the knowledge of my own profound corruption, an insurmountable fallen nature...but there is no god so I must create my own.
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