I started thinking about Bakersfield again; I’m not sure why. Some things are best viewed from a distance. I’m trying to find perspective, and consequently I keep thinking about how strange it felt to return there in 2008. There’s a weird sort of oscillation, between near and far, between looking at something and yet through something. It’s a part of who I am, but at the same time I could be from anywhere. It’s just a place, among many places I’ve been. But it is where I’m from.
Or more accurately, I suppose, where I really grew up was here:
It’s more accurate to say that I found perspective by leaving town and looking back from a higher prospect. It’s the barrier here that interests me— white lines painted on the pavement. This cattle guard is a red herring at the base of of the climb up Breckenridge Mountain; further up the road, as I recall, there was a real one. One had to be careful navigating a bicycle across that one. The mixture of faux and real grates is the norm. I suppose it’s so the cattle won’t get wise and realize that they really can leave town if they want to. Or, I suppose you could think of the success of these “virtual” guards as a an intelligence test. Many of my friends growing up suggested that it wasn’t really possible for people from Bakersfield to leave. I suppose it depends on how easily fooled you are.
