Vocational Tourist

"Vocational Tourist" (2026) Lyrics by J. Widener with AI-assisted music I traded the thesis for a ten-speed gear, Fleeing the failure and the quiet fear. I wanted the Yukon! I wanted the sea! (“Call me Ishmael!”) But the seat was vinyl and the coffee wasn't free. Lake Champlain at three in the morning, A wrong-turn-wonder without any warning. I’m a scholar of the asphalt, a ghost in the lanes, Hauling forty tons of logic through the Vermont rains. It’s an existential LARP! It’s a vocational trip! I’m reading John Dewey with a white-knuckle grip! I’m a tourist! A tourist! In a kingdom of chrome, Essentially homeless in this motorized home. The Burr Conspiracy in a Natchitoches stall, The Sonora sun making everything small. I looked at the drivers in the diesel line, Real-life humans trapped in logbook time. They were beaten by the road, they were caught in the gears, I was just playing at it… hiding from my fears. A vocational tourist with a book on his lap, Trying to find a way out of the trap! It’s an existential LARP! It’s a vocational trip! I’m reading John Dewey with a white-knuckle grip! I’m a tourist! A tourist! In a kingdom of chrome, Essentially homeless in a motorized home. “Where am I? Vermont? No, wait... Texas!” I’m watching the lines... ( “The dotted lines!”) I’m losing the time... ( “The borrowed time!”) Is it a mission? Or a hideout? Is it a dream? Or a blowout? “Check the tires! Check the logic!” Mobile but static. Adrift and erratic. Is there validation in the vibration? Or am I just… Trapped in this situation? “I forgot how to speak to people who don't have CB radios.” "Breaker—breaker—" "...how ’bout you, southbound..." "...got a copy..." "...ten-four..." Twenty-five years gone and the diesel is dry, I haven’t seen the world through a panoramic eye. I wouldn't trade the miles or the Champlain mist, But it was a ghost-life… a strange kind of twist. I climbed out of the cab, walked off the yard, And learned my whole life didn’t have to be this hard. It was an existential LARP... a vocational grace, I was hiding my heart in a wide-open space. Just a tourist! A tourist! On a permanent roam, Building a cage out of their motorized home. “I think I’m ready to park it now...” I never looked back. I never looked back. “How ’bout you, southbound… you got a copy?” “Brake check. Brake check. Brake check.” “Losing the left lane up here, eastbound.” Peace through understanding. “Funny thing about the open road… it doesn’t set you free. It just gives you enough space to figure out what you’re running from.” It was an existential LARP! A vocational trip! I was reading John Dewey with a white-knuckle grip! It was an existential LARP... a vocational grace, ... hiding my heart in a wide-open space. It was an existential LARP… a vocational style, I looked like I belonged At least for a while. Oh~.... the Vocational Tourist Oh~... the Vocational Tourist