Guide For Going Off The Grid

                          Photo by  

                        Craig Whitehead https://unsplash.com/@sixstreetunder

The burner phone is a necessity when going off the grid. Connections are hard to keep.  Use public transportation. Don’t use a Fast-Pass or subway card that’s linked to you. No picture identification. Craving that Mojito or the morning coffee? Reacher enjoys it in a ceramic cup not Styrofoam. Pay cash, tip well—but not so well that you make an impression. Flirting with the waitress, maybe. Relationships are a problem. Unless it’s with another escapee. These sometimes work out. More often than not they’re a double agent and will flip you.

Oh, for elbow room. City living is stifling. Permanent residence worked well for Michael and Fiona. An upstairs warehouse if you have the skills to transform it. Here’s the thing; you can’t escape you. Noir and novel tell us we can’t leave that guy behind.

Deep undercover, deep in the woods, what drove you then drives you now. The poets got to publish, the conservator needs a canvas. Memory; the girl, the disaster, detonation, dad—so hard to outrun. Out run you must. They’ll come for you or you’ll reach out and save some. No more Muirs and Appleseeds.

A relentless rigor is required. Sixth sense, gut guided IQ, the way you interact with art, with people. Captivity keeps you from connecting. Thoreau took trips into the village of Concord while at Walden. Perhaps its wiser to establish levels; deep in the wild in the Dakotas and into town bi-weekly. Maybe messengers visit with news, money and grub. How hard to draw those lines?

Solo and still you bring all your baggage. Mental health can deteriorate in quarantine. Can it be done with dogged discipline? Then comes the knock on the door or the encounter on the street. You step in and offer help. Your certain-set-of-skills and sense of right and wrong call you out. Saving society sucks you back in. The cycle starts again.