Some are overwhelmingly egoistic, while others are insatiably nobody.
At first thought, you might think the egoist should occupy the world most vividly and unforgettably. But think in terms of need rather than capacity: Who needs to be seen — and by whom, and as what…?
The transcript of the preamble to Ride:
“I was in the winter of my life
And the men that I met along the road were my only summer.
At night, I fell asleep with visions of myself
Dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour
And my memories of them were the only things that
Sustained me and my only real happy times.
I was a singer, not very popular one,
Who one had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet —
But upon an unfortunate series of events
Saw those dreams
And divided like a millions stars in the night sky
That I wished on over and over again — sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew
That it takes getting everything
You ever wanted and then losing it
To know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know
Found out what I had been doing
How I had been living — they asked me why.
But there’s no use in talking to people who have a home,
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people,
For home to be wherever you lie your head.
I was always an unusual girl,
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul.
No moral compass positioning due north, no fixed personality.
Just an inner indecisiveness
That was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.
And if I said that I didn’t plan
For it to turn out this was, I’d be lying —
Because I was born to be the other woman.
I belong to no one — who belonged to everyone,
Who had nothing, who wanted everything
With a fire for every experience
And an obsession for freedom
That terrified me to the point I couldn’t even talk about –
And pushed me to a nomadic point
Of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.”