Yeah, I Want To Travel South This Year

So I've had this recurring daydream going through my head in some form or another. One day, after a heavy sigh and hopeless heart, I just pack up with my cat and move out to the desert--someplace like the Salton Sea or Kingman, Arizona. No warning, no sign, just dust floating through time left of my old life.

And I get some trailer out in the middle of the desert with nothing but the sun and cracked ground around me. I spend my years grinding away my days working at a Walmart, drinking cheap beer at night to make me forget. I get old and leathery, my face becomes a cracked walnut in the dry air and heat. If the slow alkaline poisoning from the land doesn't get me, the liver damage will. I wonder how different this is from my life now.

But the problem is I'm such a pop culture junkie that I'd tear my way back down the 5 to get to the nearest Borders or Tower Records after two hours fucking about in the desert. I guess being a dispossessed desert rat isn't my path.