I moved to Cambridge on a whim, and remained here because my offspring wished to be educated and the schools were pretty good. Or at least safe.
I was optimistic that I could organize a life for myself, and others shared that hope. Don wanted me to acquire a house on Portugal Place and open it up like my Portland and Seattle houses, with friends and neighbors and strangers swarming through.
Though he also said that I would hate Cambridge, and my best bet for sanity would be the river.
I chose the latter option, consciously limiting my social activities, withdrawing from polite society. Partly out of necessity, as this city is so toxic and I am so argumentative. Mostly though because I needed the time; I had used up all of my generosity. I was tired. I needed a rest. Or at least, a place to hide.
Cambridge served that purpose, and more besides; this city (that is only a city by royal decree) taught me what it means to be truly lonely.
This damp, hostile, flat university town cares not for you, nor me, nor anyone at all. This is the place where words like ‘scientist’ were coined, and it will always be a stern bastion of the intellect. Cambridge and Establishment are interchangeable.
I tend to think of life as a costume party, and I can certainly dress whatever part is required. Cambridge is not impossible for me; it is merely unpleasant. I could fit in, if I wanted. But I don’t. Mainly because I dislike the aesthetic.
The earlier remarks about bribes and plots were entirely truthful. I have decided to leave; the question is where will I go, on what terms, and who will accompany me?
Paris, Berlin, London, Portland, SF, NYC.
How, where, who…. I just need to decide.