Over the last few months of stark sobriety, I’ve been spending the time when most people sleep playing Minecraft. I’ve always enjoyed playing Minecraft, not for the zombies and survival, but for the virtual Legos aspect of it. I still played the Survival version where there are monsters at night just to give the game something like a circadian rhythm: get up, build, sleep all (in-game) night, and then repeat. A properly Calvinistic work-ethic without the bothersome religious trappings and sense of manifest destiny.

Whenever I would get bored of a world I’d created, I would start from scratch and build another one, repeating this process dozens of times. I’ve found that (without a conscious decision to do so) I kept building the same goddamn thing over and over. Not exact copies, but a variation on a theme of the same structures and virtual living arrangement.

I think my subconscious mind was actually pointing me in a direction outside my virtual world to a place where I’d really like to live. Directing me to my own Walden, if you will, and not continuing to live a life of quiet desperation in suburbia. I had become like Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind but I was manically building my destination with virtual potatoes.

So now I know what I want. I want a cabin in the mountains:


With a horse barn:

And carefully tended gardens with outbuildings for livestock:


Like with most things I do creatively, once I discovered the Muse that delivered my inspiration, it fled. Still, the message was delivered.

Leave behind the traffic and congestion and angry people pursuing their Sisyphean goals. It’s time to live out my days in a place of serenity and beauty. With an internet connection.