The fantasy is nothing special; it's just about real life -- the boring kind, the stuff Ernest Hemingway novels are made of. But I find myself fantasizing about that kind of life anyway because for some reason, I think that if I move to a small, seaside town and take a menial job somewhere that will throw me in the paths of people often, I will somehow learn something really big and important about life and human nature -- and to be perfectly honest, that sounds rather exciting.
Plus, for whatever reason, I suspect that there is some sort of simple beauty in a life like that -- in the certainty -- not unlike the path of the sun across the sky -- and in the rhythmic pulse of the ocean along the shore.
And then maybe, I'd write it all down. It would be a slow moving novel, the kind with painful amounts of character development. It would be like one of those boring seafaring novels, except it won't be as boring or..seafaring, for that matter.
I'm thinking that in one of the summers between years of college -- and it will be many, many years -- I'll move to a random seaside town in northwestern United States -- a town with a tiny, tiny population. Maybe 200 people.
I don't know how I can reconcile this fantasy with my desire to live in NYC.
I am a walking contradiction?
The theme song to Cheers just popped into my head.
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