Category: Uncategorized

  • Concerto

    Concerto

    What is this concerto that surrounds me that only I seem to hear? mellifluous and intoxicating whose grand composer eludes, seemingly ascribable to life herself. something that can’t be shared or explained but only experienced and lived. what is this concerto that surrounds me emanating from all that I encounter? that enriches and enthralls me…

  • Onism & Memory

    Onism & Memory

    In the museums I study the walls and the frozen, timeless objects and I breathe in and ingest all that I can and it fills my heart with a profound and shoreless sadness, with a longing, alluding to all the things I will never come to know in this world and also all those I…

  • Limerence & Absence

    Limerence & Absence

    Walking the path alongside the riverbank, he repeatedly made room for someone that wasn’t there taking up far too much space as the boats struggled upstream battling the ferocious wind; and the distance between him and the someone that wasn’t there would be sliced through suddenly by cyclists surging incautiously, recklessly, through the winding trail…

  • Margaret.

    Margaret.

    I wanna walk through time like I would an island and skip and play and sing as if nothing mattered innocent but as the day recedes and I notice the shadows surround accept that I have to go kicking over glasses screaming at the trees pestering all that I encounter along the way ruining their…

  • This park bench is a coffin

    This park bench is a coffin

    This park bench is a coffin, but he doesn’t know it yet as he blows his nose into his sleeve and his dog looks up in disgust. This park bench is a coffin, but he doesn’t know it yet as the night’s stutteringly taciturn breath beats the weariness further into him. This park bench is…

  • It only takes a large beer for me to become disgusted vis-à-vis how much I obviously love to hear myself talk.

    It only takes a large beer for me to become disgusted vis-à-vis how much I obviously love to hear myself talk.

    The concept of maturity is really just a sneaky little guilt-trip to try and get you to shape up and acquiesce to the roles that society needs you to fill in order to sustain the power-dynamics that it depends on. I mean, sure it has a biological definition (ALSO a construct), but really that just…

  • During the downpour.

    During the downpour.

    Lucas awoke early that morning and left the apartment building expeditiously off into the damp, quintessentially dreary fall-day to make the most of his final moments in Athens. He noted the weather and was trying to get ahead of it as much as possible before it could stymie his ambitious plans for the day. He…

  • On the veranda.

    On the veranda.

    She returned from dinner a tad bit more inebriated than usual and threw her keys carelessly into the couch where they rebounded defiantly onto the floor. The lights had been left on and the refrigerator was out of wine and all other things important. They had passed her on the promotion and her immediate manager…

  • At the kiosk.

    At the kiosk.

    The Parthenon stared down at Frank like a celestial beacon, radiating and illuminating the shrouded, undulating landscape on a cloudless night. After a lingering period of timelessness, he turned and walked down the street following alongside the railroad track and came to realize that he was thirsty. There was a small kiosk competing for attention…

  • In the terminal.

    In the terminal.

    I was bumped by the man behind me and immediately aroused from my drug-addled stupor whereupon he then proceeded to mutter something or other about his daughter’s wedding to himself. I was completely out of benzos by this point and yet still hadn’t slept for close to thirty-six hours. The corners of everything in my…

  • Home, ‘n’ stuff

    Home, ‘n’ stuff

    I didn’t end up writing very much this trip. I was too preoccupied with other things, I guess. A good amount of procrastination factors in there as well though. Every morning, awakening to the soft competitive glow between amethyst and periwinkle trapped in the silk-thin curtains, signaling the commencement of the day like a crescendoing…

  • Apropos of an ego

    Apropos of an ego

    This one already feels forced, but I know that sometimes you just have to write because you have to write, so let’s see if anything sanguine and/or sagacious develops out of this obligatory time-card that’s been punched for the day. The last week or so was spent between the cities of Marseille and Nice. Both…

  • I get, kinda, why people have kids now.

    I get, kinda, why people have kids now.

    I don’t feel like this trip’s blog needs to have some rigidly formal degree of linearity to it. Not sure as to why- just feels contrived at the moment, and for this time around. So let me just talk about things and places as they come into my head. You’re never growing if you’re not…

  • Life is quite the asshole sometimes.

    Life is quite the asshole sometimes.

    Welp, Dad died yesterday. And here I am at pretty much the start of 3 weeks absconding to France. I sometimes wonder if I don’t understand certain aspects of what it means to be a human; what it means to experience and process certain emotions, feelings and concepts quintessential to the human perspective. What the…

  • “No, I’m not going to talk about fucking Covid…”

    “No, I’m not going to talk about fucking Covid…”

    Seriously, I’m not going to talk about fucking Covid. There will be no reflections nor ruminations regarding busier, better, more “normal” times here. There will be no mournful, lugubrious pinings over shuttered hangouts and empty walkways. I’m not going to try and evoke pathos atop my digital soapbox from all six of you very early…

  • Strolling back up Trondheimsveien…

    Strolling back up Trondheimsveien…

    Oslo: Now THIS place is expensive. And hip. And posh. Teetering on the precipice of Paris-level fashionableness serves as the typical going-to-grab-groceries wear. How can you even begin to try and fit in with that, working out of a backpack? You can’t. I rolled my pant cuffs up one day. Probably did it wrong. Go…

  • Tied to the tracks.

    Tied to the tracks.

    Enjoying some Fika time (look it up), just about to leave on a train for Oslo. At this point I’m excited for something new, but part of me is really going to miss Stockholm. I’m not sure why, but there may be some weird cosmic shit going on behind the scenes I’m not exactly attuned…

  • I’m not cold. You’re cold.

    I’m not cold. You’re cold.

    Alright so I’m cramming a few days worth of stuff into one rather uninspired post. Shut up. There is a very placid and tranquil beauty to this city,  despite the fact that its inhabitants must be cold as shit during these flurries. And let me say: I’m pretty good with cold. I kept to a…

  • Same shit. Different year.

    Same shit. Different year.

    So this is what 35 looks like. Staring out my quaint little porthole at the clay-toned towers of the old town and legal district, a solemn and peaceful contentment fills this little room, mirroring the magenta dawn slowly fading into scene with the lapping waves and squawking, hungry gulls right outside.  I’m ok with all…

  • What would it even mean for any of this to be “good”?

    What would it even mean for any of this to be “good”?

    It’s been a while now since this travel blog has been operational, and there is plenty to catch up on as to why. But be patient. All in due time- like a Hellerian framing mechanism straight outta Catch-22, advancing the plotline by ever-increasing the detail. Suffice it to say for the moment that I’m about…

  • Impractical.

    Impractical.

    Impractical: (adj.) – (of an object or course of action) not adapted for use or action; not sensible or realistic. It has been an interesting time to be in Barcelona. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you need to tune out from Candy Crush at least once in a while, and look both ways…

  • Nostalgia.

    Nostalgia.

    Nostalgia: (n.) – a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. So, I’m shmammered right now, but Hemingway said “don’t do drunk what you wouldn’t do sober,”… or something along those lines, (I currently can’t confirm); so here goes… I like Lisbon- a lot. I…

  • Cognizance.

    Cognizance.

    Cognizance: (n.) – knowledge, awareness or notice [e.g. of an external situation/relation]. I think this one speaks for itself but… When traveling, it would behoove oneself to conscientiously keep in mind that they are the tourist, and the one consistently out of place in any given context. Always be aware of your situation, your sourroundings,…

  • Sexagenarian.

    Sexagenarian.

    Sexagenarian: (adj./n.) – between the ages of 60-69 years old. Hello everyone and welcome aboard the SS Lethargic. I am sitting poolside drinking a beer, catching some sun and collecting my thoughts. It is a lovely 65 degrees Fahrenheit outside. The lounge chairs are billowy and quite comfortable. The occasional gull darts into view overhead,…

  • Ostentatious.

    Ostentatious.

    Ostentatious: (adj.) – characterized by pretentious or showy display; designed to impress. This is me in an environment in which I do not belong; taking afternoon tea in The Colonnades at the Signet Library, with acoustic hymns softly registering in the background, all I could think of was how hilarious it would be if someone…