The middle south might be the worst place on Earth to live. It’s like living in London without the benefits of the city or a decent pub.

Endless autumn is endlessly difficult to deal with. Up north, things die for the winter but the death is covered with snow often enough to make the world look clean and bright. Down in the deep south, the sun shines and things stay green throughout the year. Here in the middle south it’s cold, rainy, dead and brown for the entire winter. There’s nothing to distract you from the dull, plodding misery all around.

It is, for instance, impossible to muster Christmas spirit in the absence of the traditional trappings of Christmas: snow, fridgidly cold weather, obnoxiously adorned homes. The closest I usually come to Christmas spirit is an uncomfortable sense of stressful anticipation as I realize how much shopping/wrapping/travelling there is left to do and how little time there is to do it. I felt none of that this year. Next year I may try no getting and no giving.

Here it is the 24th of January. It’s blustery but warm enough to wear a light jacket. The leaves are still scattered about, the trees are bare and the sky is the color of chill-blasted blue. You know it’s bad when even bright sunlight and a spotless blue sky looks like an ill omen.

I suppose that rather than being taken aback by the question I should instead wonder why the question took so long to be asked. Like a bolt of lightning it hit me: First, “Christ, I’m living in Nashville, Tennessee,” Then, “What the hell am I doing here?”

The answer is perfectly obvious and will remain the same as I keep moving to many and varied places as the years go by but the sudden realization is an absolute show-stopper. I really have no interest in going back to Gettysburg but it’s fairly shocking to suddenly internalize the knowledge that everything you’ve ever known is a hell of a long way away.

In other news, I am thinking of worshipping Athena. I think I’ve been to her local temple more often than I’ve been to my local church. When most of the Saturdays I’ve spent in this town are started at the Parthenon there might be a lesson to be learned.

I’ve been a poor explorer. The first time I went downtown since the day after I arrived here was late on a Monday night to get off the interstate and out of traffic. In truth, I learned more about this city and its possibilities in three days preparing for and entertaining out of town visitors than I had in three months.

I did swing out of my neighborhood one Tuesday a week or two ago and made a pretty fair evening of it – had a bit to drink, wandered out to explore one of the rumored local hotspots and found a piss-poor imitation of an imitiation Irish pub serving draught Guinness badly. Despite the obvious failures, they at least attempted the decor and served the sauce in correct glassware and at the correct temperature.

A pitiful approximation of an oasis in this desert is better than pounding sand. I reckon I’ll have to go back.

I may not be officially finished moving nor officially settled in but I’ve accomplished enough to consider this place home for the forseeable future. In my wanderings around the neighborhood I’ve noted some bizarre things. Some tend to prove the rightness of my decision, others make me furrow my brow and wonder how I ended up in such a strange land.

13 Interesting or Entertaining Things about a New Home Down South

13. There is an armed guard in the local Comcast office.
12. People drive languidly. I have more to say on this point sometime.
11. Sam’s

10. New digs offer interesting decorating opportunities.

9. I never have to go to Wal*Mart again, Target is much closer.
8. Johnny Cash lived here. Hell, died here, I suppose.

7. Grand Old Opryland
6. These are the default politics, except in my godforsaken hippie neighborhood.

5. Fall feels the way summer ought to.
4. The intersection of redneck and cracker hip hop culture is a thing to behold. It’s like seeing Kid Rock at his peak in every bar.
3. Visiting Athena Parthenos on a beautiful Saturday morning.

2. That I – who can easily handle Irish, English, New York, Philly, Pennsyltucky and just about every other accent under the sun – have to be prepared and listening carefully whenever one of the locals speak or I’ll have to ask them to repeat themselves several times to get the message.
1. Being seven hundred miles away from everything and everyone you’ve known is wonderfully relaxing.