‘the life of fucking Riley’

it’s been said to me more times than you think.

[even that 'fucking' part, I suppose because it adds emphasis]

a few weeks ago, I decided to leave the country again.

on another adventure.

on yet another adventure.

so I bought the tickets.

from here to there.

there to over there for Christmas.

back to that first place.

and then a one-way to over there for NYE.

‘no problem’ I told myself.

a few projects had ended and the money was on the way.

on the way.

and still on the way.

it’s the corporate way.

to be ‘on the way’.

and now, as it stands, I might have enough to get me to that first place.

[remember the first place? you got to keep up]

and then some other pennies are supposed to come in.

supposed to.

come in.

but there’s no guarantee.

I think Kenny Rogers eluded to this.

so off I go – whether I should or not.

with a few pennies.

and a promise in my pocket of a few more.

but there’s no guarantee.

so sure, look on me.

because most only see the photos.

and comment on the photos.

but never ask about the bus ride to where they were taken.

not that I’d talk much about it anyway.

just know it ain’t easy.

and know it’s fucking scary.

[I added that 'fucking' part for emphasis]

and know there’s nights and nights of doubt,

of worry,

of being really scared,

because it might,

it could,

it possibly will,

turn into an adventure.

and maybe I just like taking the pictures.