20 March 2001 ~ Follow my heartbeat...

There's nothing to do in this town.

Wait... hold on a sec... Before I start that gripe, allow me a brief moment to locate an old newsletter I keep in my bathroom for potty-reading and toilet paper when I've forgotten to steal any... I don't think it's fair to begin the "there's nothing to do in this town..." bitch-session without paying homage to another opinion...

"'m sick of hearing it. I'm sick of sitting at the bar and listening to people complain about how there's nothing to do in Binghamton. It seems that complaining has become the official county pastime..."

I spent the evening wandering the streets of Binghamton with a tall skinny dude known as Gibby, looking for some fun. We debated going to a park. We debated shooting blow-darts at high school kids from my porch. We debated going "roofing" (which ended in tragedy when we found the door to our mutual favorite rooftop securely locked and Gibby's younger sister living in the fourth-floor apartment asking what the hell we were doing in her building.

Finally, Gibby and I just walked. And we talked about old times. We never really hung out, so to speak, but we ran with the same crowds, sort of, and we had a lot to talk about. (And despite the fact that Gibby will never admit I won the bet about whether or not Stanley Kubrick was American, he IS a cool guy...) But the thing was, the things we talked about were all past things: people who have moved on, places that are shut down, places that are no longer open past six o'clock at night...

...And everywhere we turned, there was someone one of us knew, and of the brief conversations we had with those people, the main topic of discussion was: "where do you hope to go?"

Where do you hope to go? Not, "what do you want to do with your life?" Not, "are you planning on changing jobs soon?" or "what have you been doing?" or "how's so-and-so?" but, "where do you hope to go?"

There was a skinny little raver-chick up by the laundromat who was cursing because her bus-tickets had been stolen. She'd been planning to move to North Carolina. Charlotte, to be exact: the Queen City.

There was the guy in Paddy's who was planning to move a few blocks from his current residence, but he wanted to know where *I* was heading. Where I'm heading? Where SHOULD I be heading?

...And Gibby himself talked about his brief stay in Missouri... Springfield, to be exact: the city you don't remember having been in ten minutes after you've left it...

I often fantasize about leaving Binghamton... But I'm not sure where I'd go. Noplace else has ever been Home. Am not entirely sure there IS such a thing as "Home," as such, but I do know that I've never been anywhere else but here where I developed a sense of belonging with my surroundings. Now, my relationship with Binghamton has often been an incredibly negative experience, but at least I've always had a part in it.

Sometimes, when I'm particularly doubtful of myself, when I'm not sure I've got all that much to offer the world, I dream of getting on a bus, moving from city to city forever, never settling anywhere, just moving: giving the world to myself rather than giving myself to the world.

Sometimes, when I'm particularly confident, I try to tell myself I could just go someplace, make a million friends, get a good job, and be totally happy with my life. Seattle, for instance.

All I know for sure is that, at 8.30 this evening, wandering around with Gibby, I firmly believed that what love and beauty has ever been in this place is now long gone. Whatever there ever was to do in this town is now gone. As a matter of fact, the italicized quote above goes on to describe concerts that are long over and done with, bars that are now defunct, coffeeshops that don't stay open past 6, and a couple of organizations that nobody in their right mind would currently join. Also, it was written by somebody who's long gone from here.

So where will I go? Fuck if I know. But perhaps knowing that I WILL go is a beginning.

Love,
~Helena*

"Where do I go? Follow my heartbeat..." --"Hair"