Ever try to read Jack Kerouac? I did. And sometimes I thought I needed to be on acid or drunk on red wine or completely sleep deprived or outdoors in order to understand what the hell I was reading. If you read Kerouac, and think about those ways of being, it might make sense to you too. Whatever it took, I think that in order to get his books, you had to get freedom. And you have to respect a lifestyle that's a little more people-minded and a little less capitalist. Small capitalists would understand it. Like children, and old people who aren't really playing that game anymore.
When serious players buy homes they don't view trailers. They end up living in the doll houses in the suburbs with attached garages and fenced in yards and they either don't know the neighbours or only know the ones they don't feel threatened by. And they sleep in king sized beds and dream about the day when they pay off their mortgage.
A friend told me "you will always live in debt. You are never going to be debt free. It's reality. Get used to it".
But he doesn't live in a trailer either. I have this image in my head, of living in my trailer, with my little mortgage, paying it off, and Uncle Sam furioiusly hammering on the windows because I don't have to let him in. Mr Moneybags is there too, wagging a disapproving finger at me and sort of tsk tsk-ing. I don't want to go to bed at night only to dream about freedom. I don't want to live with Sammy boy and Moneybags. I'm going to live in BC - arguably the most naturally beautiful part of my country, I'm going to live with my boys: Jay, Wayne and Kerouac. I'm going to live without debt, without the restrictions that brings. I'm going to live free.
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