Not in Luton Town

I'm watching Luton Town play Grimsby in the fourth round of the F.A. Cup. An alternate version of me in an alternate universe is an alternative of the stands at Kenilworth Road.

Instead, I'm in this one, where I didn't move to England but instead stayed in Virginia to commit to the work I do, writing about all sorts of things.

I would feel like an outsider there, but I always feel like an outsider here, too. Today I'll likely not talk to another person except maybe the clerk at a store. I've become the sort of person who would rather just be alone.

This time last year I drove to Vermont to explore a potential move there. I no longer feel like leaving here and plan to stay here, going through the motions and waiting for someone to take away what I've built.

While most people like what I do, I know how power in Charlottesville works. It smiles at you while calculating exactly which vein to cut. I am well aware there are many who would like me stop doing what I do, which makes me want to work much harder. So I will.

All places are like, I think. Humans are infused with a sickness that allows some people to dehumanize others with the click of a switch. I don't want to be like that, so I spend a lot of time alone., watching people 3,280 miles away kick a ball around a stadium I've only been in once in my life, nearly 40 years ago now.

I look forward to the spring when I'll go to City Stadium in Lynchburg to see as many games as I can. I sometimes lament that I didn't fulfil my dream of living in England, but I know enough to cut my losses and be content with what I have: A hermit life with very low expectations except work, work, and feeding cats.