This is a foolish errand.
Better, smarter and more dedicated folk have traveled this path, and their stories are chronicled in pits of madness or concluded, unfinished on the great highway of life.
Kerouac and Thompson sought it and left befuddled. Fitzgerald and Joyce attempted to fictionalize it, leaving their characters lost, dead, unsatisfied.
But it’s out there. It has to be out there.
It is defined by dictionary.com as such:
Authenticity: [aw-then-tik] adj. 1. Not false or copied; genuine; real 2. Entitled to acceptance or belief because of known facts or experience.
That is it, at least in definition. But are there real people out there? Where are the true encounters to be had? Does it exist only in moments? Is this need to find something authentic in life nothing more than a sensationalized letter from a mythical king?
This is an ongoing story, an exploration to play cartographer to the human experience. It will thread its way through news articles, interviews and personal observations. All that is needed is an open mind and patience.
So with ears pressed to the ground, listening to the massive kick drum beating in the chest of every soul, the journey–