“Go West, young man.”
So encouraged Horace Greeley. In the 19th century, the young and ambitious had only to march towards the sunset to make their name in this blank slate of open land. The sky was the limit because that was all you could see. Today anyone who’s watched the purple, smog tinted sunset from the midst of an LA traffic jam knows that much stands between your dreams and that sky. Still every day people push towards the Pacific hoping that altitude increases with longitude and they get high enough to break through to the clouds.
Many get high, few leave the ground. Most head home, wiser for the trip if still embarrassed that dreams once too large to wrap your head around have deflated to realites that fit in a carry on. It happens. Casiotone For The Painfully Alone sum up that long ride back East as well as the single tear you shed on your way. You hope that when you get there people at the bar have heard the lyrics to “Bobby Malone Moves Home” and buy you a beer. Things didn’t work out like you planned. Ask the people who never left and they’ll tell you it didn’t work out for them either. At least you saw some beautiful sunsets.