Barcelona

Ah yes, here I am, once again, in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, sitting here on a Sunday night, in a hotel lobby, trying to shit out a few words that might convey where I am and what’s going through my mind right now. I am staying tonight in a lowend hotel on the outskirts of Barcelona. Spring has suddenly and very kindly started its arrival in Europe and into my life which went cold literally and figuratively last November when I left Australia and returned home to Las Vegas just to systematically dismantle and destroy all signs of an organized life. Partially my fault, partially just the world exacting a little sweet revenge because I may have had it too good for too long and all strings of luck need breaking. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming and I certainly didn’t do a whole fuck of a lot to get out of the way. Suffice to say, I felt bad at the time for myself, but at this point I no longer am the willing enabler to the situation. Anyways, what I’m driving at is that whole Spring shit and the very fact that over the past two or three days I’ve felt it’s affects on the brain and body. Yesterday, I was sitting by a pond outside of Rimini, Italy in a place where no self respecting Rock show should occur, but did, feeling the sunshine on my face in a way that signaled the end of the collapse. It felt so good, I even took my shirt off and let the sun kiss my belly for a bit. The Italian countryside is a place where a romantic mind wanders a bit and, suffice to say, my heart and mind felt those sweet sun kisses, and I just about cried as a little smile crept across my lonely face. And yes... life is beautiful and all, but I got to wishing I had someone to jabber at about it all. For the past seven weeks, I’ve romanced this fine European continent and God only knows about 90 percent of the things I’ve wanted to share, but just can’t sometimes.
Today, I managed to drive just over 1200 kilometers on my way to Barcelona and I guess at this moment my mind is mixed with excitement and delirium and nostalgia for everything and I suppose I need a drink. A sangria might be nice, eh? Maybe you could join me? Anyways, I raced through the Italian countryside and over to the Italian coast before driving through the French Riviera and along the south of France before entering into Spain after nightfall. It was such a long drive, but my mind was mad with thoughts and I seemed to have this nonstop internal dialogue which I mixed with the stunning landscapes and the drive really just flew by without the chance for my mind and body to grow bored or tired. Suffice to say, I mixed in the proper amounts of Red Bull to keep Papa’s heart ticking along the old road. I guess I got all those mixed feelings about the joy and sadness of this life. I got excited about going home in ten days, which is really a mixed feeling of happiness and foreboding. It will be good to return to the place less broken than when I left, but I’ll have to force myself not to linger too long in the glow of the hot Spring that’ll hopefully be waiting for me when I get there. I’ve already purchased tickets to San Francisco, Seattle, and Spokane for a week or so after I return, but I feel like I have too many other adventures I want all at once and I’m afraid this Spring may not be able to schedule them all in during her short time frame. That and... Papa Ryan needs to keep that sweet cash flow coming in to stave off his life as a train hopping hobo for just a bit longer, now.
Anyways, it’s 3am in Barcelona. There’s a steady Spring drizzle coming down now and I’m forced to remember a special time I had here a couple years ago whilst touring with The Killers. I met up with the prettiest girl ever from Mexico that I had met a month or so previously in Berlin and she met up with me here for a few days off I had at the end of the tour before I flew back to the states. Anyways, we took a drive with my friends Dave and Jeremy down the Costa Brava, which is absolutely one of the most beautiful things a person can do, but when you throw a couple good friends into the mix and brown skinned lovely like this girls was, you really have a recipe for a brilliant day, but I blew it all as I always do with those deals. I was just getting over that whole feeling of post break up depression and the feeling that I shouldn’t rush into anything and I really can be a real speechless dork sometimes when I find myself in the company of those true beauties. I’m generally so confused of how I got them there, but this time, it seemed really natural the getting there part. Anyways, I bumbled and stammered all day with trying to say the right thing and all that "be yourself" crap, but I screwed it all up and when it came time to say goodnight I just fell flat again. You see, it was raining and all those romantic elements were in place and I really froze there. Anyways, she’s still a friend of mine and I’m happy for that, but I’ll never forget those few days in Barcelona. The mad nights dancing here drunk out of my mind on Sangria, stumbling through the narrow alleyways, and just totally mad sometimes with excitement. And I shouldn’t fail to mention that I purchased my Captain’s hat here in Barcelona, which would mean this city is a kind of birthplace for the Captain. In fact, tomorrow I plan on trying to find the little Sombereria where I made the fine purchase. I mean, I really could write so many stories about things that have happened in this city and I hope someday to do a little of that.
Oh well, all is well. Sleep well in your beds. Kiss someone if you can and while you can. Don’t be afraid. And enjoy the brief smile that crosses your face in Spring and let out a bit of a laugh for me. I’ll see later.

4:35 PM - 4 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Milano

I’m sitting in a hotel room about twenty kilometers outside of Milan sipping on some chianti I bought at a gas station coming in from Zurich this afternoon. Our room is on the 7th floor overlooking some textbook views of the Italian countryside and my head is feeling a little warm from the wine. I haven’t writtien in a bit, but suffice to say, not a whole lot has been happening on this tour. The usual rigmarole of driving to gigs and setting up, heading to a low end euro hotel to try and sleep a bit has been the dominating pattern, but today seems like a beautiful day to say hello again to you all. You see, we’ve been in the middle of many snow storms and, to be honest, the days have presented challenges, but it’s still everything I ever wanted from this tour. Today, I raced the Vauxhall Zafira through the swiss alps around hairpin corners while scenes unfolded in font of my eyes. It was all textbook European romance with the roads, but I wasn’t able to ever reach the speeds reached on the German Autobahn about a week ago. While driving from Stuttgart to Vienna I found out that the Vauxhall minivan we have been driving has a maximum speed of 130mph, which isn’t bad, right? Anyways, I’m real sorry Mom, but it was all done in the name of science and I really did murder that drive.
Now, the tour is looking to more springlike conditions, so we are all hoping the adventure will resume here, but there just isn’t enough time in each place for that stuff. I gotta keep going too, because the moment you stop is the moment you get those creepy feelings coursing through the old blood and I just can’t be bothered anymore. Gotta keep going. Gotta fell that wheel and you gotta keep hugging those curves till there just ain’t another one to hold onto. Because when the road drags on straight and easy I get tired and my eyes are heavy sometimes.So I gotta have those twists and turns and I gotta keep going for just a little longer.

10:39 AM - 9 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

A few bored words from a hotel room

At the moment, "Mobius Band" and I are stuffed into a room in the French ferry border town of Dunkirk or Dunkerque. The town was flattened during WWII and was rebuilt in a utilitarian way leaving it generally uninspired and useless overall. I've passed through the town on tours past, but I'm pretty sure I've never stayed here. It's Saturday night and there really is nothing better to do than update any interested parties on the progress of my mission of helping these three fine lads take some sort of hold over here on this side of the pond. And so far, I gotta say, the tour has been a success and I gotta believe there is hope perhaps for them. I'm not sure they're so optimistic about my future, they seem to think I should be taken out to a field and shot like Lenny in "OF Mice and Men" while they tell me about my bright and hopeful future. Actually, we get on pretty well until I fall asleep each night when my kitchen list of sleeping ailments take hold of the room for a nightly performance which leaves them both annoyed and awestruck. Each morning I receive a report of my nocturnal activities, including hyperbolic reenactments I have to believe can't be true. Aside from my very dramatic sleep apnea, which has been compared to a bear fight or a man clinging to life, I have also recently taken a shine to hysterical laughing in addition to my standard night terror fits where I awake screaming or crying, but I really upped the ante the other day in Birmingham. We were staying at my friend Russell's house when I woke up to Noam screaming at me, "Ryan, What the fuck are you doing?" Well, I guess I was taking a piss in the corner of the room! Not to worry folks though, I was pissing all over my own shit, not anyone else's. Anyways, the boys have taken to verbal abuse in the middle of the night and also blasting "Pink" noise through a stereo all night to drown out my nocturnal sounds. I kind of like it, it's just like having a waterfall next to my head. Any ladies interested in a sleep over?
Other than that, the tour has gone without incident. Aside from a night in an East London Egyptian run speak easy hash house talking religion with a bunch of muslims and my jewish friend Noam, I can't say I've had too many wild nights. I went to see MGMT in London and went back to meet them after their set and I figured out one thing, those boys like their psychedelics. Good times on their tour I'm sure...
Anyways, for the next few days I'll be in Belgium and after that it's off to Germany. That's it for now. Be good and I'll talk to you later.

4:11 PM - 9 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

London to Glasgow with Vauxhall and I

I guess I woke up this morning with a bit of a swish going on in the old head due to the simple fact I had put the hurt on the better part of a fifth of Jameson and hadn't consumed the proper amount of water in the process. Consequently, the 8:30am designated wake up time came a bit painfully, but we had to get going early due to the fact that we were driving to Glasgow today and we had to pick up our new wheels for the remainder of the tour. As I said in the previous blog, Mobius Band is on what you might call a shoestring budget, so we've opted out of the usual van scenario to go with a simpler and smaller form of transport, we had planned on picking up a station wagon of some sort and when we arrived at the car rental or car hire as they like to say here, a posh brand new Volvo was wheeled out to our pleasure. It looked real slick, but we quickly realized after trying to shove all of our bags, guitars, and merch in the small boot space in the back that it was far too small for the demands and space requirements that are going to be necessary on this endeavor. So, we walked back in the Alamo agency and requested an immediate upgrade to a larger vehicle. And it really was quite a shame, I really did want to test out that Volvo's pickup once we got over to Germany and out onto the Autobahn, but what we wound up with was the slightly larger Vauxhall Zafira which we would lay down the back seats to in order to fit all the shit we needed to bring along with us and while it's still quite cramped with guitar necks sticking well into the backseat area, it looks like the Vauxhall Zafira people mover is going to be our new mode of transport for the next seven weeks. I was also a tad bit let down because our Vauxhall is a manually operated Auto and if you forgot already, I am a novice when it come to these things. That being said, I knew that after conquering the massive splitter we had in possession for the first few days of our adventure that this much smaller and more modern auto would be much easier for me to handle.
Peter Sax, Bass player and singer of Mobius Band, wanted to take her out of London and I must confess that Peter was born to drive and has a passion for it much like our Kerouac here Dean Moriarty. The man just naturally knows how to kick a car into gears and how to race it around the complex and hair razing London streets that had been a source of much anxiety for me over the past few days. We also had to go back to Ben Sterling's girlfriends house to pickup the guitars and Merch before hitting the road for Glasgow. After a quick lunch on the street of Chicken pitas, which were cheap, filling, hot, and delicious we navigated our way out of London and onto the M1 carriageway headed north. Peter got us out of London and it wasn't until we were about twenty miles out of town that I insisted on taking the wheel from Peter. As many have come to find out, I often hate driving around the city, but I've always had a love of open roads and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to race a car north through the English countryside all the way up into Scotland. The journey from London to Glasgow starting from Ben's lady's flat in Central London was exactly 403 miles, of which I held the white line along the M1, M6, and M72 for roughly 300 of those miles until we were forced to stop for food and, to be perfectly honest, my eyes were getting sore from staying focused on the road for so long. I was also pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed the shifting of gears and how damn fast a euro minivan will actually go. I found myself a time or two going nearly a hundred miles an hour, which is not only dangerous children, but due to the predominance of police cameras in England, also very risky as far as getting a snap taken of my lawless behavior. The English really have a long tradition of spying on themselves and these police cameras are really everywhere, however we are also carrying a very handy GPS which also notifies the driver when he is coming upon these tools of Big Brother. For the most part, I raced north without fear, totally at ease with the cars and finally noticing no awkwardness on the left side of the road. We were only slowed down a couple of times while passing through the Greater Birmingham area and while passing Manchester. Other than that, I found myself enjoying the rolling hills and sheep all day long and staring off at the stars once nightfall came upon us. This was the part of this voyage I had been looking forward too and for the first time I was Jacking the Ball on the European road systems smiling and sweating while I furthered us up the road and onwards to our destination. It looks like Vauxhall and I are off to a good start, it looks like she might be the lover for me after all. The only time I was ever slightly envious is when we passed an old WWII era motorcycle with a sidecar, I've often had daydreams of sitting in the sidecar while dirty Mike races us south down through the Americas while I sit by the side aloof taking in the landscapes of the Americas. For now though, I can't imagine a place where I'd rather be and if life affirmation is the entire purpose for living, than I know I am living perfectly. So long friends, take care and I'll be updating you all again very soon.

9:20 AM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

29 years old, in London, on my Birthday

Right now, I am sitting in a flat in East London while my friend Victoria is chopping vegetables and raw chicken in preparations for Chicken and Leek pie. Today is my twenty-ninth birthday and for the second year in a row now, I find myself in London, far away from home and family, alone with the realization that there is no way for any of you to get a hold of me. So, I thought I might give you all a little update into how my latest days have been and what my immediate future is looking like over here in England. Last year, I was here with the Killers, gearing up for a second sold out show at Wembley Arena and staying in central London at the St. Martin's Lane hotel. This year, I'm here with Mobius Band, opening up for Editors, sleeping on floors and couches, trying to cut whatever corner to make the ends meet. Suffice to say, this has already been the adventure I was looking for when I signed on to the project and we're less than a week into it.
Around February 8th, I received a vague text message from my friend Ben, one of the singer front men of Brooklyn based synth pop rockers Mobius Band, inquiring whether I'd be interested in joining them for seven weeks in Europe opening up for another group I'm fond of, Editors. I met Mobius Band in Spring of 2006 when I was working for Stellastarr* and Editors during my last break from The Killers, I was very fond of them and made it clear I was interested in working for them when the time arrived where they could bring me along. The money is bad, the accommodation and lifestyle is basic, but I'm more excited about this tour than any before.
Suffice to say, things weren't going so well back home in Vegas and the timing for a life affirming adventure were perfect. Between the benders, family financials and health, death and dismemberment, romantic disasters and failure, I was ready to skip town again. Between accepting the job and leaving town, things continued to get complicate themselves with trying to scrape a couple bucks together to survive, saying my goodbyes, moving my few possessions into cardboard boxes, and not to mention a final romance. I met or finally connected with, was one of these Holly Golightly and she sauntered into my existence on February 13th, just in time for Valentine's Day and just in time for me to leave town with yet another loose end. Suffice to say, I'm not going to place too much thought on it, but it seems to be par for the course that these things tend to always happen at the worst possible time for me always. Besides, I was out of my mind trying to get myself ready to leave town and pack, that I'm fairly sure I made the worst possible impression possible. At the very least, I suppose she got a real flavor for me during the worst of times and if she digs me now, than I suppose she'll still dig me at my very best, right? Anyways, after the whole debacle with the girl from the land of OZ, I resigned myself to be like that Bill Murray character in Broken Flowers, committed to becoming that smooth talking aging bachelor, but to be honest, I don't think it suits me very well. Despite my commitment to being Dirty Mike's hetero life partner, I like the feel of a woman more than Mike's stubble on lying on my chest (Sorry, Mike. Can we still go on a kayak trip when I get home?). But regardless, I think its safe to say that I'm an incompatible road dog suited for no one. Suffice to say, she might have the most beautiful eyes I've ever gazed upon. Perhaps, the sea will be my lady though? I guess what I'm trying to get at, is that things were quite complex when I left town. Ryan had good things, but Ryan also had many bad things going on. Comprende?
So, I arrived in London on February 19th, sleepless with many things to do. I once again would be forced to do extraordinary things that my body was probably not prepared to do. You see one of the things required of me on this run is to drive the band. Simple enough, but I need to drive them in a massive truck, on the left hand side of the road as they do in the UK, with a stick shift, which I am pretty bad at. In fact, the day before I left town, my dear friend Bree gave me a lesson on how to drive a stick (Thank you, Bree!), but I was still pretty bad. So, when I was forced to drive through Central London in a beast of a truck, during rush hour, without sleeping, I suppose you could say I was freaking the fuck out. I kept saying out loud frantically, "Sink or swim! Sink or swim! Sink or Swim!" and well, I'm here to write the story. In fact, it's been nearly a week and I haven't even dented the truck! I'm pretty impressive, I know.
So, after navigating central London I spent my first night sleeping soundly, totally exhausted, and totally satisfied with my life for the first time in a very long time. Somehow, I realized that despite the setbacks and failures I have happened upon as of late, as long as I am adventuring and challenging myself along the way, I will never sink to the depths of ever considering my life to be a failure. You see it's always life and the constant struggle of making it a real life that have satisfied. There is no satisfaction in laziness or complacency, but those always are the easiest and most accepted options for life. I'm always meeting people at home or on the road that seem to admire my life, but in the same breath berate their own or there's the people that think my life is careening off a cliff and want to advise me on how to be a bit more stable, but none of those people are happy with their existence either. I suppose I've always known this, but while I was taking the ferry from Holyhead in Wales to Dublin, I realized I didn't choose this restless spirit, but I inherited from my Mother and somewhere across the Irish sea I realized it again that I always gotta be in motion or I'm going to be a miserable spirit. The obvious sacrifice being that I'll be a lonely soul, but I know there's a reason. While I was driving across Ireland on my way to Belfast from Dublin I was seeing for the first time those fabled Irish landscapes you always see in those Wal-Mart calendars and it reminded me of that sense of life I felt the first time I read Kerouac's "On The Road" when I was sixteen. And while I know it affected others the same way it affected me, I somehow have been one of the few to take that life to heart and to really have the constitution to live it. And maybe I'll wind up a sad drunk like Kerouac, dying at forty-nine with a failed liver and broken heart, but I'm always going to live this life with the heart and my heart's vision will always be clear and untouchable. And while my detractors and misguided concerned loved ones will continue to warn me of my ways, I will be steadfast, holding on to the steering wheel, eyes focused, and if I die with focused eyes, it'll be beneath the wheel, and even my detractors will have to admit that I lived with a purpose and a sense of spirit undeniable. I may not be the first, I am certainly not the last, but if I had a birthday wish, it would be to be the best. I'm not so sure it's possible, but thank you for the prayers and advice and if I don't listen please find it in your heart to forgive me, because this is the only life for me, friends. Thank you for being friends, the dots that connect it all and help form the bigger picture, for being the point I'm driving towards always and constant in your presence. I'm twenty-nine, penniless, and happy again, how long this will last this time God only knows.
Anyways, my friend Sadie from Vegas just arrived, the chicken and Leek Pie my friend, Victoria is preparing is filling the house with a fine aroma. I think I'll crack another beer and celebrate this American life. Oh shit! At this very moment, my friend Noam just walked in the flat bringing me my first gift of the day, a dart gun and a box of PG Tips tea! I've been drinking PG Tips obsessively and I guess Noam thinks I need the dart gun to relieve myself of frustration. Ah, what a lovely day! Well, I must go, but thank you all for the love and well wishes. I wish I had a phone that could connect us all! I love you and will passing through your town very soon.
Best Wishes,
Ryan

7:46 AM - 24 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

I don’t sleep much these days

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, the house gets quiet and for a moment I can almost get all those thoughts that creep and crawl around all night and for moment there's a silence. There's a moment without a song, without a girl, without a place, and I think that I can almost hear through the walls the sound of the poor mouse that is forced to live in a house with no circadian rhythm. I hear him devouring the food on the floor with stealth, careful not to wake the house which lumbers when it rests. And I hear other things too. I hear the Oakey train calling me in the middle of the night. She knows I'm awake, I've waited patiently at this hour for her to pass countless night to pass her tracks. I turn the engine off and roll down the windows and listen to her tell me where she's going. I hear her, but my mind wanders off again to a foreign place where I wish I were heading. I miss her horn at night when away. I'm going to miss the Oakey Train someday.
I guess I could just take a sleeping pill and learn to deal with not being able to get over you, but I don't want to. I don't want to. Goodnight, friends. I'm going to drift off before the sun rises and the stars exit from the evening. I'll dream a sweet dream. I'll dream I'm in a place where its summer and a pretty girl is lying next to me eagerly awaiting me to awake so we can go swimming in the ocean. Nice dream, nice dream...

Currently listening : 69 Love Songs By Magnetic Fields Release date: 07 September, 1999

3:33 AM - 17 Comments - 25 Kudos - Add Comment

the coffee slinger

There are many days when my only wish is to disapear to the Northwest United States to take a job behind a counter slinging coffee. People would wonder why sometimes I did this. I would make coffee and tell a few stories. I would clock out at 2pm and go home to my guitar. I would sing sad songs about wanting.

7:21 PM - 19 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

I'm still here I think

I woke up a few minutes ago and forgot where I was. I knew I was on the bus because of the rockin' around, but I couldn't remember where we had come from or where we were going. I got out of my bunk. I got myself a chocolate chip cookie and some milk. I remembered now. We had just left Atlanta and we were heading to Nashville. I dipped my cookie in milk,smiled, and then realised that I shouldn't be eating this late... it's not healthy. I learn lessons slowly I thought to myself as I wiped the soggy milk cookie from my beard... I'm a slow learner.

2:07 AM - 9 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Merry Christmas!

Posted By:Holden_Racer

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8:31 AM - 9 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

soft spoken in sitka

 I was tired as I stumbled off the plane from Seattle on that early June day with the fatigue that had been the culmination of several months of intense living, travel, and poor sleeping habits that had ultimately grinded me down. The decision to leave Las Vegas and seek refuge in quiet places had been borne out of several months of decidedly hard living and the need to fleshout some ideas and feelings that had been sitting waiting for the proper oppurtunity. It's easy to get caught up in the idea that you're living a romantic Vegas when you've watched  the sunrise more times than setin any given week. Not to say that these were the circumstances that led me out into the wilderness, but they were the day I boarded the 747 to Seattle after an all night romp beginning with the getback,a monthly party in downtown Las Vegas, and ending at 9am packing my belongings just to race to the airport. Needless to say, the pitstop in Seattle at my grandmother's was a powerful elixir to a sleepless night. Welcomed with hugs, kisses, and a refrigerator which could only be described as a land of its own; it was good to be in allied waters. The stop was short, only a night, and then off in the morning after a breakfast of apple pancakes and cantoloupe which can leave the belly so warm and full that a man would be best suited to return to the comforts of bed.

   The airport in Sitka is not a large place, in fact it's very small. So, the walk from the airport to the baggage claim was short and after a brief wait I collected my bags and stumbled out to await my friend Mike who had arrived a couple of weeks before to find work, but before I could get there I was stopped by a girl, Sara. She informed me that Mike was running late and that he would be arriving shortly, he was confused about the time or something. It was also at Sara's where I would be staying for the summer. Sitka is a small town.

   When I walked outside it was raining and the area was shrouded in a general malaise which finds its genesis in the eternal blanket of clouds which surround you. Mountains, giant trees, bald eagles are everywhere too throughout the waters and on the land. The town has a population of 8500 or so which makes it one of the larger cities in southeast Alaska, but nothing really at all to most southerners as they refer to anyone not from Alaska. They're a very insular people too, not groomed in some of the social niceties such as introducing themselves or smiling, but they're good people once you get to know them. The men are generally soft spoken and the women are definately in control, an observation I would imagine comes from the lobsided ratio of fishermen to women. I guess this would be a good place ladies to come find a good hardworking man. There are only eighteen miles of road here, three bars, two fast food restaurants (Mcdonald's and Subway), and a library which I have grown quite accustomed to visiting on many afternoons. I spend my days there, walking about town or in the woods, or at my place of employment for the summer. This place, the Highliner, is a sort of social gathering place for the people of Sitka and the most successful coffeeshop in Sitka, of which there are many for such a small town. I took the job to help pass the days and because I needed the funds. It may come to some people's surprise that I am not an endless well of cash funds, but I guess working a real job again would help welcome me back to reality. Suffice to say, the job and the coffee served are both shit and I eagerly await my last day in August. I often find myself fantasizing about scenarios in which I leave my job in a blaze of glory, this includes everyone's favorite, "Fuck you, fuck you, your cool" scenerario, but is not limited just to that. My main fantasy is just taking the trashout and not returning again. This passive aggressive shit is my favorite I guess, it leaves my despised coworkers dumbfounded, but allows them to come to their own conclusions. This hatred of work has also led to many hours of online poker playing which I do in hopes of making a big enough score to legitimize work walkout fantasies. I came really close yesterday to winning a tournament which had a $2,5000 first prize, but fell short when after several hours of playing in silence at my sister's the house was raided by its occupants preparing for a birthday party. Suffice to say, I was taken out of my zone and I blew it. I won a hundred bucks in the end and forced to accept the fact that that was not enough quit work.

   My evenings have been passed in the company of neighbors, my sisters house, and an adult softball team I play on which would bring many laughs to anyone given the privilege of witnessing. I guess I run like Forrest Gump and my sock collection gives my fishermen teamates great amusement. I find myself the butt of many gay-based jokes, I can't help but laugh myself. In light of my surroundings though, I have learned to adapt. I have found that generally males are expected to wear hoodies as opposed to my v-neck banana republic sweater, they love taking a piss out of me for that. Luckily, my sole hoodie in possession also color coordinates with my softball uniform, this did not go unnoticed by my teammates who found it an irresistable oppurtunity to make a crack or ten. Luckily, we are the worst team in the league and it's not hard to reciprocate the commentary.

   It should be said that one of the main reasons I came to Sitka was to see how my sister came to adopt this city as her new home. For all the downfalls of living in Las Vegas, I find that its many conveniances make it one of the most liveable cities, they also make it one of the deadliest of towns. However, to up and go to a town about as far away from your family is about as an extreme measure as one can take, one which is noted with sadness. So, I have come to investigate the new life she has carved out for herself amongst the fish and the trees. Her  boyfriend, Jeromey, is a massive man in his mid 30's that takes out rich white guys on a fishing boat. He's conceited, loud mouthed, a bit rude, and likes to drink; in short, he's one of my favorite people here and has helped make the time here liveable. He plays poker, drinks, and talks all the time. He has a daughter, Jordyn, who s just as loud as he is... she's a good kid.

  Anyways, the time here has taken time to adjust. The first days were filled with dread. I often lookout to sea though and become content just to stare. Walking, reading, and writing have reentered my life. In touch with myself, I still find myself restless, missing people back home often and deeply. As the fourth of July approaches I wish for backyard BBQ's, spectacular firework displays, and my old friends and dear old Las Vegas.Last year the holiday was spent without mention in a cold soviet-esque town in Poland. I look backward to a more innocent time, before we squandered the last holdouts of innocence with corruption and indifference. When makeout sessions in warm lake waters were romantic notions not stymied by the habits we have adopted.

     In a way I feel like this place is a reminder to a more innocent time where I can repair the damage we performed on ourselves. I tried to keep the sadness at bay my keeping in constant motion and not allowing my mistakes ever to register. Now, I sit and let the world register, catch up with old friends and reconnect again to somebody that I used to know. Quietness covered in Solitudes and Stratas of personal development that I can only hope stick this time for good.

5:21 PM - 14 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment