I’ve always wondered what kind of people choose to live in remote solitude in places like rural Maine or North Dakota. I figured the woods were just filled with ax murders, cultists, and people into weird shit like fucking sheep. It’s why I’ve always been more afraid of being alone in the woods than being in a dangerous neighborhood. There’s no one there to hear you scream or to police the weirdos. But then I read articles about people like carpet man, and I start to question the very premise that the weirdos are the ones who’ve said “fuck you, I’m getting out of here” to society. I mean, what kind of world do we live in when there are not 1, but 2 human carpets in NYC? Competing carpet men in NY? And not only are they accepted, they get paid to be fucking rugs! Obviously our society’s fucked.
The big question I’m faced with now is whether this means even weirder shit goes down in the woods of New Hampshire, or the recluses had it right all along. Either way, the idea of holing myself up somewhere (anywhere) with a shit ton of fire arms and ammo never seemed more appealing.
Georgio discovered his predilection when he was a young child, he said. “I loved to have weights on me,” he recalled during a recent interview, his gentle voice flavored with a Maltese accent. “I liked having my cats walk over me.” He worked his penchant into childhood role-playing games. “Somebody wanted to be the doctor,” he said, “somebody wanted to be the carpenter, and I would want to be the carpet.” Story
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