Running around. Airports, taxis, sidewalks. The jungle caught a ride back with me in the soles of my boots.

Jet lagged and in a spin. Dropped about 7lbs but I feel lean and I feel efficient and I feel great.

Will take a nap for a few and then see who’s around for dinner. There’s nothing like that first big meal back home prior to crashing for 12 straight hours, which is my only plan for today.

Have a great Monday.

I completely love this. Make sure to read the text, it’s so fantastic.

“Her eyes were the color of…”

That is all.

Not really all, just all about that.

So this is called the City that Never Sleeps. The reason for this is because a large swath of the population are students, underemployed, or those who constantly fear “missing out”. The “never sleeping” part is a result of a combination of social pressure, drug use, and a phenomenon I refer to as “urban bordom.”

Urban bordom has to do with mankind’s yearning for excitement, purpose and satisfaction, and also possibly an interest in the mystical. We used to get our fill of all of these things from nature. Even in the early days of industrialized cities, people still took off into the wilderness for literally wild times, a desire for and recognition of the excitement and wonder that accompanies time spent the actual world from which we used to dwell, rather than the artificial one we have so recently made.

Because of urban boredom, people go crazy. They take chemicals that recreate a sense of intensity, and provide temporary elation. They blast themselves with extreme stimulus, whether it be huge crowds or loud music, because it drowns all other senses away and hints of the mystical can be attained. They flirt with each other for the same reason. They make risky decisions for the same. It’s all the same, and it’s all filler for what used to be as satisfying and intense as it was terrifying: sleeping out with the wolves and bears, protecting yourself and your family with fire and projectiles and your body, thinking strategically about surviving the next day, not a single unused brain cycle to waste.

These days, so many of us have to clamor for things to use our brains for, to feel things.  It’s no wonder that here in the city people clamor for so much stuff all the time. They try to create a sense of achievement in order to feel fulfilled. The stuff around us–and the entities selling it–what they’re really selling is a feeling, and they’re not secretive about it. Interesting to consider that the feeling of fulfillment and actual fulfillment are two different things, just as the feeling of happiness and actual happiness are different as well. (Otherwise the purpose of life might be to acquire the deepest supply of “happy pills”, in whatever form they take– diamonds, tits, Ferraris, pools, Ecstasy, planes, pot, castles, etc.)

What the urban bored know, however, is that for them it’s a game, and it’s rigged in their favor. That’s why they’re not satisfied. Things have been in their favor from the beginning, so the sense of achievement is false. They’re supposed to win. They’ve never once worried about starving to death. They’ve never fought for their lives. But they know something’s missing. That’s why they keep trying to fill the space, and turning themselves into large bags of crap.

Going to war is another way in which people create the sense of urgency to survive that can feel so good. Being in a battle, guns are firing all around and the sound of bullets whirring within inches of your ears, that can do it, too. I’m sure it was the same with swords and axes. I’d take that over a drug. But I’d take the wilderness over another war. I’d take the stars over almost anything.

But of course, the stars never love you back. So you have to think about that pretty carefully.

Still on the road, pressed for time. Enjoy this Blue Footed Booby.

(The only booby I’m getting lately.)

An artist is a person who sees beauty in everything, and nothing.

Back on the road. A stopover here, a terminal there, a cab here, a lobby there. I like the road and road likes me. I like the silence and the silence likes me. I like the detachment and the detachment likes me. I like the challenge, and the challenge fears me. I like my lies and my lies like me.

On my way back now.

Then turn around, go again.

I should have finished up my dissertation faster, and read into that as you like.

That is all for today.

Which is a reference to Mercury. “Day of”, that is.

Sigh.

Friend is getting married up in Maine on the 23rd. That’ll be a good little break, out there on the water. Lobster dinner, I bet.

I’ve been in four wedding parties. Twice I’ve been best man. But I’ve never been in the wedding party for any of my own family members. That probably sounds and seems very weird to you. I understand why. I have no further comment.

If people want to go off and get married, that’s fine. I don’t think it’s for me. I’m not against it, but I know enough about people to know you never know someone as well as you might think. And getting married just seems like a setup for mental fuckedness, unless you just don’t care that much about the implications and what those vows are supposed to mean and amount to. And if that’s the case, that you don’t care that much, then why get married at all, you know?

Awesome outdoor training weather over here. Beach runs and swims daily. The water is still cold but I like it, and morning coffee on the beach while it’s still chilly is just the best. All kinds of motivation and enthusiasm with each new start. That’s less likely for me in NYC, definitely.

Happy Wodnes.