From obscurity to obscurity and back

I took a trip from one place to another - I forget the details now.  It was a bumpy ride all the way and in the the end I had to ask myself why I did it.  And, do you know, I sat down on a handy stump and fell asleep - so perplexed was I with this whole question.

What was the point?  I asked myself later, while shaving in the mirror.  And to my surprise the mirror spoke:

"You've missed a bit on the side of your chin."

"Oh, thanks!"

"Don't mention it."

The mirror never spoke again.  Just as well.

People tell me that travel expands the mind.  My dad told me "You won't learn anything from books." (maybe keep that one from lawyers, philosophers etc - they get sensitive about that kind of thing).  He travelled.  France, Germany, Egypt, Iraq, Pakistan.  But most of the messes looked pretty much the same.  I reckon he saw a fair bit though.  We call it history now.

Always travel with a case full of books.  Even if you never get around to reading them. 

My problem is my guts.  They get upset with life very easily.  They like a routine.  They don't like amoebae and other nasties.  A clean, comfortable toilet is like a womb.  Things that get out of kilter are restored there.  Life becomes good again.  Aristotle probably knew the value of a regular bowel habit in a clean, safe place.

I like being on the road.  How many times have I written that in one place or another?

I like meeting people.  The best people you will ever meet are probably still to be met.  Maybe on the other side of the world.  I don't need 120 friends on Facebook.  I just need a few who see things the way I do and who care.  If I have to travel half-way round the world to find them or to see them, well I will.

Who cares what the answer to the question was?  What was the question? - I can't remember anymore. 

I just feel the need to be on the move again soon.  I don't know where, but it will probably be somewhere with friends nearby - unless they've moved on by then.  But I've outstayed my welcome here by my own reckoning. 

I'm not one for dramatic scenes, so I'll wait for the right moment, then you won't see me for dust.  Or ashes.  One way or another, I'm moving on.

I don't know what I had in mind when I wrote out the title, but I guess I've finished now.  Nothing much makes sense anyway.