This is what I talk about when I talk about the wandering vagabond muse: truly truly the difference between “getting” and going that of “seeming” and being that between “rare” and raw. The wanderer, alit with the muse of equitable bliss rarely gets anywhere. Instead opts for the slow methodical languid locomotion of going. Going where? Going here. Perchance there. Going anywhere, and … Read More The Vagabond Muse
The inefficient stapler, what with its effeminate undertones, emasculates the opposition into petty submission to do its bidding til the end of time. Inefficient? It asks itself as it gazes with lust into the hallway mirror. Hardly. Subtle swagger lights up steel hips and the stapler sways back to its black hole.
The mission: go a full week, from Saturday morning until the following Saturday, without placing any item into a bin, either a rubbish bin or a recycling bin. Alter the lifestyle for the week to be one where throwing away something isn’t necessary. This looks like: Eating the entire apple, sans the stem, so I wouldn’t have to throw away the core. Saving the … Read More A Week of No Trash
“Okay, we’ll stop here.” I let the fins of my kayak paddles rest against the smooth ocean, just as my right shoulder was reaching its throbbing limit. I was relieved I wouldn’t have to ask for a break; when I told David I had kayaked before, I had failed to say that “before” meant five or six years ago. I wondered what effect the … Read More The Great Bellowing Taranaki Wave
When my body wakes me. It’s still dark. I open the window above my bed. The whispering dawn snuggles down. Down into my hair. Down into the space between me and my sleeping bag. Which I sleep in despite the closet full of sheets. The whispering dawn lifts me out. Out into my running shorts. Into my cheetah print bandana. Into my bright blue … Read More Composting
Half a year has gone by since I left Kansas. I’m still learning various currency exchange rates and the metric system, so still going strong (relative phrase). Relativity is a fickle friend. If I think on some of the travelers I have met—Liz and Hadyn in Assisi, who have been backpacking the world since summer 2016, Sara in Mostar, who traveled alone for three … Read More Half a Year Away, Away (and Happy 300!)
in a black rubber suit zipped to mid-chest, the two sides flapping in the sea gusts, flapping to the beat of the lurching dinghy and up and up and down down to the choppy Arabian waters, his bare foot braced on the lip of the bow foot tendons flexing, whooping unbridled as the sea spray leaps to his curls— pauses his laughter for only … Read More The French Diver