on a small island with a fragile ecosystem

I don't get the crooked signs and things that look like people but really aren't. It's frustrating if I try to swim against the currents, thinking I have to swim in my own direction, but if I just let go and let myself be carried down river it frees up a large portion of my brain to do other things.

 Where is it gonna carry me if I just let go? It won't be right in this spot, it'll be in some different spot.
If I try to struggle and make the path, who am I struggling against?  Reality? Other people? Myself?
It never feels right, if I hold some idea in my head of where I want to go, then try to make a path that leads there. The parts never meet up. I end up with a bunch of places I wanna plug things, but no wires. The ropes don't stretch all the way. The pieces don't fit together. There's all these gaps where the juices leak out.

Sleeping outside is easy, in parks, in forests, among the rocks and dirt. In the trees on the side of the highway with lights and low rumbles tumbling by ever couple seconds, swollen clouds spitting now and then. Stumbling exhausted into bushes near a park, kicking all the shit and trash out of the way so I can have room to throw out my tarp and sleeping bag. Listening to some tweaked out homebum screaming while I fall asleep.

I enjoy having nothing to do, or getting around to the shit that needs done on my own time. I like having no expectations, not needing to worry about anything. Worrying and struggling seem like a waste of effort, when you can just wait around until its time to do stuff instead.

Calling strangers on the phone to discuss made up stuff like bills or credit or interviews, with its maze of invisible rules, is agony. I get so tired of it that I just decide to crash through the walls blindly not even thinking what the next step might be, let the chips fall where they may, and usually things turn out better that way. I have to fool myself to get there, though. Distract my mind for a second then jump.

I'm fine growing my own food, I'm fine pulling food out of dumpsters, fermenting veggies, salting meat, baking sourdough bread, cooking over a fire, I'm fine stealing food.
I'm happy begging, I'm okay sometimes working if the work doesn't demand too much of my brain function. I'd rather be cooking or sewing or building for friends and trade, but you make due with what you can get.

There's nothing wrong with being lazy. People are supposed to be lazy. Ancient man goofed off and did whatever seemed like the thing they should do all day and it worked out for them. Doing that in the real world works out too. You end up getting exactly as much as you need and no extra. If you don't need much then it doesn't take much effort and you might even be able to put a little away for down the road. If you store up a bunch of biosurvival things (money, friends, favors etc) then you have surplus you can coast on. If everybody still lived this way we probably wouldn't have all the excess technology stress and diseases we do.

There's forces that pressurize every system, and things usually want to stabilize at a place of equal pressure. Think of osmosis in cells, or magnetism, or gravity, thermodynamics, or population ecology, or lift on an airplane wing. You can spend energy to push yourself up that hill, but then coast down. If you put in a little energy on that coast down you can manipulate it so that you don't have to spend as much energy coasting up into that next hill. You can find a groove and surf on your input/outputs. Balancing work and play until they become synonymous, like halves of the same whole, ya dig?

People's names fly through one ear and out the other the minute they say them. Probably because I'm too busy being anxious and trying to make all the right gestures and facial expressions to not appear like a robot. Knowing this about myself I usually tell people my name several times during an introductory conversation, and then again at the end. I don't know if it works, but I feel like they don't usually forget my name.