Yes...it’s time for another adventure! A new destination awaits tomorrow’s departure. This is an all time record for me, having already packed everything except dress shirts and ties. (they are pulled and simply need to be added to the carry on) 



Well fuck...I got so busy basking in my preparedness, I didn’t finish my “Bon Voyage” post. At the airport, will be back tomorrow with the first days report from another far off place. 



  “Don't cut out my paper heart I ain't dyin' anyway

Take a look at eye full towers Never trust them dirty liars
Sippin' lemon yellow booze Ol' leadbelly sings the blues
All dressed up on wedding day Keep on trippin' anyway

I am I am I said I'm not myself I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
So keep your bankroll lottery eat your salad day deathbed motorcade...” 






I discovered today, that my stepmother and stepbrother have died. No tragedy I’m aware of, just a life of abuse upon themselves. For reasons unbeknownst to me, my brother made a trip by the place where our dad used to live. It was run down and condemned. Our sister upon reading this in our group text posted the obituaries of the two. Bryan died in December of last year, and his mom in May of this year. I’m not at all surprised by the news, just a little shocked at my reaction I guess. I haven’t spoken to them in a very  long time. After Dad died in 1996, she disposed of his ashes without any of his children being present. There was a divide present that was never approached again. She and Bryan had assumed possession of all of Dads meager  belongings, even after I had told everyone I wanted his hunting and fishing gear. He and I had spent the vast majority of our times together enjoying the outdoors. He first took me fishing at two years of age. That was the special times he and I shared. They came along after that foundation was already established between my Dad and I, and their hi jacking his things to hold onto something so dear to me, as if they were somehow a part of all that. I wasn’t about to stoop to their level to attempt to gather any scraps of material possessions to preserve the memories associated with  them. I chose to walk away and disconnect from them and their disrespect for my wishes. My sister and brother similarly disconnected for much the same reasons. We were quickly shuffled aside with regards to his personal effects, and she got beneficiary and survival rights to all of his assets, so his children were ushered away empty handed. I guess that was to be expected from the man, who abandoned us to start another life away from us to get whatever fucked up piece of mind away from our mom. That’s what left my siblings and myself reeling as children, and struggling in our own individual reconciling of the whole traumatic experience. I was singled out and told two weeks before he even mustered up to tell our mom he was leaving. Maybe this is where I write my story, and define my ambition to write. Not simply my understanding or perspectives to the problems and promises of the world around me, but the thoughts that make me who I am...


...(to be continued) 


  #being me 


No one ever explained to me as a child about how love works. It was trial by fire as my emotions lead me through my childhood and headlong into adolescence. That lead me down a path as an adult, that created many teaching moments for later in life. Even, if it lead to some heartache and tribulations along the way. I write this now, because I do have a genuine appreciation for the people in my life, not only in the present, but the one's scattered across the landscape of the journey as well. I'm not sure one can be told about something as unique as love, and have any meaningful understanding We pick up on the examples set forth before us as we identify with how it appears in those around us, and how that makes us feel. We fantasize about the romantic versions we see on the television (...or via our streaming service today) or read about in the novels. This gives us clues, but not experiential insight. Trial and error is the only game in town for becoming comfortably familiar with the most overwhelming emotional experience of human existence. Attempting to second guess the decisions we put into constructing the opportunity to draw from this participation is fruitless. Anticipating an outcome just because it suits our vision is equally as delusional. What we’re left with is the reality that love takes practice and a shit ton of diligent work, with zero promises for success. It truly is a leap of faith by anyone attempting the dive. 



  “Mini Pearl...” 

I say all of this to get to a deeper more profound introspection of my path to this moment. At some epic moment, I began to view my life for what it is, and not for what it isn’t or could have been. This changes the lens for how you view everything. The relevance of people in my life is correlated to the depth of how we are connected. True meaningful relationships require the aforementioned work, thus identifying all connections with the same magnitude becomes overwhelming. Circumstances come into play, and dedication of time to any relationship sets the magnitude of that particular connection. The neglected connections fade to their places beneath the others. The fresh exciting ones belay our focus. The richest most fulfilling ones lean upon our every free thought. Budgeting of the proper amount of attention for each is the lifelong challenge we face. I suppose we should hope to allow enough of ourselves to reach everyone in our lives, but being fully present whenever we’re around anyone who matters, and not neglecting those, who don’t stand before us each and every day is the ultimate success. Realizing we spen an hour of every day eating, and several additional hours thinking about eating each day. To go with thoughts about our work, household responsibility, and don’t forget vacation. Our recognition of others is squeezed into small compartments of functional excess. Almost collateral baggage to life’s rat race. 



   “...the cajun”

Savor each and every encounter you have with all the gusto you can muster. They all affect us somehow, and managing the benefits while minimizing the detriment is all there is for housekeeping of our experience. We are all born emotional messes, and without refining our ability to shape ourselves, we languish in the minutia such existence entails.