I need to revitalize the olden days, the good days, the mad days, the days when society wasn’t so fenced in, so global, so private and so inclusive. I don’t want to normalize the slums of the world. I don’t want to lose the Magic Kingdom and the old imperfections that sung glorious discordant notes with the American dream. I’m in a poetry class now, teaching me to love writing again, and teaching me rules. I must learn the rules and learn them well; this is the way things are. But once I learn all the rules, I want to break them all in a glorious fit of smashing china. I know I’ve lived my life for science and goals and morals, but there is a madness burning in me to travel, to go on the road and never come back. While browsing the blogs the other day, someone had asked, “What should I bring on a permanent road trip?” If only I could be so bold as to ask that question. I gave no advice, for speculating about it just reminded me of how trapped I often feel. However, I’m agoraphobic about my life, and while I want more than anything to step outside it, I don’t. I fear what perhaps agoraphobics have always feared: that if I leave, it won’t be here when I come back. I want to see the best minds of my generation….and I want to find the Neobeatniks. Maybe not so much the drugs, but the ability to go to such a place using just their minds, their thoughts, the wild cacophany most people suppress. In other words, phrased long ago by someone who thought more clearly and more sideways than I ever will, the only people for me are the mad ones.