Writers carry a notebook with them. It's their twitch stream. There's a profound pity in the stupefaction that is staring at the assemblage of letters, which—when you wrote them in a burst of epiphanic succor—meant so much to you but when read a week later makes you go, what could mundane cucumber cock even mean? … Continue reading You may want to write this down
To feel lightTo risk tourism To not know where to lookTo learn small soundsTo stockpile wonderTo walk infinitely To close out dead-endsTo grieve your shoesTo disorientTo eat in reclusion To grow daze-facedTo get sun-drenchedTo go moon-madTo suspect yourself To mock meaningTo do dumb shitTo determine, habitually, if you should've stayed homeTo laugh at an eavesdropped … Continue reading To travel
Wanderlust, an end.
Our relationship with travel is like our relationship with the soul. Mysterious. Magical. Hopeful. When I first set out to travel three years ago, I had no clue what to expect of it. I thought it would last six months -- a break at most. A break from something. To somewhere. There was also the … Continue reading Wanderlust, an end.
I believe I can fly
One morning of early 2017, I woke up with a dumb-muscled urge to travel. I opened my Facebook account and told my friends that humanity was a stagnating cesspool and they all one bubble in its soapscum; I told my girlfriend I had enough of her shit; I told my boss to kiss my arse. … Continue reading I believe I can fly
From the earliest I can remember, I have had an uninhabitable urge to go west. And I will admit it took some balls for the desire to eventualize. For some time now, I have left my 'quit the job to travel the world' romcom unplayed because it felt wrong to talk about something so individualized, … Continue reading Travel