Do you ever wonder where people are going? Some do the road, the Camino , that’s going somewhere right. I mean it’s a pilgrimage right? The woman next door masked up and all said she did the Camino, goddamn it! She was pretty forceful with the goddamn. Not a bit of ego in her redheaded voice. It got me thinking that people walk that road to meet people, eat Spanish food, drink Spanish wine and maybe fuck Spanish women or men. But pilgrimage I’m not so sure. She’s a live Trump fucker and so is her boyfriend and we all live in a tiny Australian town where Ned Kelly got his rocks off wearing tin armour hiding in those Blue Hills called the Strathbogies. Her boyfriend writes crime stories. Over a glass of red they started on about Trump , I told them I hated the fucker . He wanted to have a bet on who would win the 2020 election. I said, sure I’ll bet ten bucks. He looked at me and said , make it a thousand. There’s a cunt born every minute. We finished up the soirée with a little more red wine, and I said , I think your getting a bit aggressive. I mean how could you vote for a guy with such a fucked up tan and that hair, man it’s straight out of Goodfellas. So getting back to the road and where people are going. I just bought myself a portable treadmill permanently inclined. I’m going somewhere on the up and up with that baby. Why, it’s got all the whiz bang things you need for going somewhere, speed and time. I thought how she seemed so proud in doing the Camino. Pilgrimage is not about pride it’s about going somewhere to a place you don’t know. It’s blowing your career off and heading out like that crazy kid in that movie, Into the Wild. It’s trusting the wind guide your surfboard to that place of the unknown . I mean, I haven’t a clue where the fuck I’m going and I’m sixty six this year. I’m a banished poet because of my bad deeds and I write on this blog because well I’ve got to do something to stop me thinking of my corrosive arthritis. It’s either that or drink myself into a Bukowskian dystopian nightmare. You need to emasculate your very soul. Maybe eat a sheep heart or two. Go barking mad. Then maybe after all that, you’ve found your pilgrimage.