The Essay

Spontaneous, available, eager, curious. To put it more bluntly: sporadic and seemingly unguided. Sympathy for the lost soul is something that the essayist, through his rambling reflections and maze-like synapses strives to acquire. That's not to say he tries to lose the reader, just to convince the reader that he himself is lost in a beautiful country. At no time does a person depend on and accept another person more than when they are lost together. Once the essayist has convinced the reader that he is lost he can whip out the GPS and show that the winding way has lead precisely where he wanted. Then looking back the journey is more about the relationship itself and the journey itself than the destination. The essayist is the driver of a hopelessly lost car with a n empty tank, the doubting passenger watching the storm clouds and the obscured gas gauge is the reader. The essay is less the view out the window, or even the route, but the conversation bouncing around the cab. It twists, compiles, thickens, eventually reaching critical mass and exploding in some realization. The essay is lofty. short drives can be just as effective as cross country road trips assuming the conversation is good. Constructively lost: that's the ticket.