Well, I’m back. Not that any of you noticed, I’m sure.
I’ve been on the road since June, 26th, and I still have two weeks before I reach a temporary final destination. In the past ten weeks I’ve been through Charlotte, NC., Crystal Falls, MI., Ann Arbor, MI., New York City, NY., parts South Africa, the deserts and dunes of Namibia, mountains and villages of Tanzania, the white sand beaches of Zanzibar, and a couple of very long, unforgiving layovers in Nairobi, Kenya. And, i’m not done. In five days, I will drive from North Carolina to California. In twelve days I will call San Francisco home. In three hours I’ll probably be drinking.
The past six months of my life have been some of the best I’ve known. I quit my job, gave up my apartment, sold all my shit, and hit the road. My storage unit consists of a crawl space under a set of stairs in a red duplex that hides a snowboard and skateboard, a duffel bag of clothes, and a cardboard box containing a typewriter, a set of small computer speakers, and a printer. Outside the duplex hangs my worn-in, red Everlast heavy bag, and a bicycle. These things made the cut, everything else was sold, donated, or trashed.
And life in Austin was good, truly. My days were filled with hiking, bicycling, swimming, reading, writing, iced coffee by the pint, boxing, long dinners with friends, live music, partying, a job I enjoyed, and, in general, a complete lack of stress. But, what felt like a high quality of life also began to feel like complacency. Like I was too content with what I had created for myself. Like another three or five or ten years would pass. They would be enjoyable, but would they pass with uninspired contentment? And if they did, is it actually bad? We should all enjoy the simple pleasures. We should all create our own realities and enjoy that existence.
But, I’m hungry. I’m not content moving laterally. Same city. And the years pass. Same job. And the years pass. This is not a game of sit back and relax. This is not a game of who the fuck are you. This is not a nine-to-five-fast-food-five-hours-of-evening-television-zombie-bullshit-life. This, I am certain of.
So, you know, buy the ticket, take the ride. Spend every penny you’ve got. Fuck it. I left Austin with $2,000, and a plan that most people would call “ambitiously imagined and mediocrely prepared.” I’ve spent the past ten weeks doing what I want, spending time with great people, and getting from A to B. Getting from A to B. Getting from A to B.
Travel, travel, travel. Write. write, write.
There are photos. There are stories. If you’re patient, I’ll deliver.