Robinson Crusoe

I have lived a long and lonely and single life in the suburbs. Life goes on day by day and I survive on a few dollars a day. This goes back as long as I can remember, since the early and middle nineties when I was in my twenties and in and out of jobs. Always living in the outside room and doing my own thing. Being single can be lonely but it can also be very fulfilling. I had my friends and my high times, and also had times when I had to hang on tooth-and-nail for dear existence. The years have flowed past in and endless stream of days and weeks and months. Still life finds me the same. Viewed from above such a picture as a satellite image might give one, I am lost in a little house on a little street in a little suburb, one of countless and ever expanding streets and houses and suburbs. A network and a maze of magnitudal  proportions in which I am lost like Robinson Crusoe on a deserted island while time and progress passes him by. I am stranded underneath a tree in shack and sometimes my good man Friday brings me pleasant tidings and dreams on this castaway shore of life. I have been largely isolated like this for more than twenty years.  Next year I hope to come back to civilization and the daily reality of work and money, but that I promise myself each year. Maybe I was meant to be this beach bum and vagabond of life. Maybe, on the other hand; it will all make sense tomorrow. But for now, as for many years past, I am content with being the only man under the stars. My little dog keeps me company and my dreams are limitless. A sign of the sail of a rescue ship on the horizon always seems tempting, but the days of sunshine and dreams is my only life. Robinson Crusoe I am and always will be. Fair blows the wind as the palm trees sway in the breeze and the tide comes rolling ever gently in.