Categories

If nature were to one day be fed up with man for the obscene amounts of pollutants we toss into the mix, Cubatão would be the first place to be removed from the surface like picking a scab.

Driving to Futility — Questions abound over the nature of this trip, its purpose, if any exists. Is this really just another business trip that happened to be to a familiar place?

Drums in the Distance — Drums in the distance.

Conquests in the Backseat — A compilation of a few hundred years of colonial history shows in the architecture but contemporary times have begun to take over the concrete jungle.

Reach Into My Pocket — I stick with what I see because there is nothing within those walls that I can know

Leaning Into the Afternoon — The City offers little in the sense of direction or horizon, less so at night.

Dusty Skyline — Moments pass in the São Paulo night that never seems to darken completely.

A Road to Conquer — For the first time, though, the city doesn't seem so ugly, so hopelessly destroyed.

En Route to Nowhere — I should have been born in the 1920's if I wanted the sky to be glamorous.

Dragon Eyes — There is a dense air over the creek, slapping any urge to leave in the face...laying on me a smack-down to stay in today.

Fly Me To the Moon — This life of stability, of contentment, of perfect bliss will someday change. It may fall apart, or it may find its way to a better one.

A Foe, Smitten — I find the demons lurking in my rapid eye movement, sinister and dark like the confusion they come to instill.

Everybody Hurts — The oppressive chains of routine, of monotony, of normality and the gray existence to which so many people resign themselves after they get married.

Under the Knife, I Rest — There's no need to go into the details of the fight except to say that it was a good and old-fashioned fair fight. We just happened to kick the shit out of them.

Calm Like a Bomb — And the fear is all around us today. The air is rank with it. I hate you all and I'm moving to Rapanui.

A Brief Interruption of the Jetstream — The Beautiful and Talented Planning Committee of the Winter Ball at the Japra Mahal are ready.

Turn Green At the Light — For god's sake, drink something else. You smell terrible!

Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay — In other words, there is no half-assing it. There is no try. You go in, you better do it ruthlessly.

Stuttering in the Dark — It's time we consider the possibilities looming on the horizon because we know they will drop below it like a sinking ship if enough time goes by.

Here We Go — This is the drug that will cure me of my writing apathy.

Travels

A Mild Distraction — “I've made no arrangement with the powers that be as of yet, but last weekend took me places I did not intend, and the results were, well, momentous, if nothing else.“

Nothing But Evil and Fear — The nighttime is still full of dark things, as always. All is well, in a way.

Purpose Beyond Reason — Oh, sure, all the stimulus in the world comes in when you're a professional consultant for a major software company, but you never have time to jot it down.

There Are No Jokes — When I said 'comedian', I certainly wasn't thinking of the House of Representatives as a Monday night comedy club.

It Feels So Unnatural — I think this is what happens to people who move to New York for the 'New York experience'.

West of the East, East of the West — So I'd spent a day sailing by myself, eating ham & cheese croissant sandwiches and drinking enough red bull to keep a corpse on its toes.

In a Time... — I had to blasphemy in three different religions - which took effort, seeing as that I never really studied any of them.

The newsmen know what they know — I want to make sure you know what you're getting into if you're serious about this madness of moving to New York City.

Musings of a Return — After all, here I am, sitting canal-side, watching boats go by with “Amsterdam“ written on their aft.

The Mess in Madrid — I'm normally not a violent person but this morning I was pushed over some line for some reason; the worst part about the whole affair is how much I liked it.

Midnight Madrid Confusion — That was where we'd walked, had a Spanish tortilla --- where it had all ended for them and started for me.

Oktober Surprise — The beats were up-beat, the beer was flowing, and the sausages were wrapped in bacon.

More Vegetables — Benazir Bhutto's return to Pakistan, Ahmadinejad vs. Cheney, General Petreus, Trevor's Blog, a couple of retards on CNN and a shirt debacle --- it was quite a week.

Glad to Be Home — Too many beers that some Australian kid bought, zee Germans were not coming through, and the ladies from Seattle simply didn't have that kind of zazz.

Holy Wonderings — All I ask for are some steaming hot coeds and a vodka martini - is that really too much to ask?

A Spanish Hand in the Mix — It's naar impossible to find a hotel in this city. But you know me, readers - I'm unstoppable.

I Am the White Powder Disolving in Your Drink — Scarlet was the kind of girl that you loved because there was no way to NOT love her.

A Dawning in Brussels — Even after driving through Gouda and about a dozen other little Dutch towns, we had no idea what kind of strange we were dealing with.

Sour Night in the Drink — I lied, and I cheated, and it made me feel bad.

North Sea Speculations — It's about rum.

I Believe in So Many Things That it's Worthless — They say nature abhors a vacuum but I'm still trying to figure out what this place is filled with besides empty hotel lots and corporate parks.

Letter to My Editor — I've tried all the usual tricks of the writing trade --- profuse amounts of alcohol, wandering around on public transportation and sleep deprivation.

You Don't Know the Power of the Dark Side — A windless quiet and complete solitude over the mighty Pacific and the California coastline - there are worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.

It's Just an Action Junkie's Lullaby — We conquered our past and resolved never to go back again, though we may one day do just that.

The Edge — Was I in LA still? Houston? Columbus? Kansas City? Orlando? Dallas? I travel so much that if I don't pay attention it all becomes a blur, especially if I drink too much - which I do.

Ominous, No? — [deleted]

Too Close for Missiles — Back from a euro-escapade that made sense in a way things simply haven't for a while.

They All Went Along for the Ride — There's still the jazz in the background and I still have the desire to put thought to paper in defiance of the heavy eyelids that so fervently insist on closing.

This Too Has Been One of the Dark Places of the Earth — Cold, dark nights in London, despite the movement, the life of the city.

Up Front There Ought to Be a Man in Black — The absence of the familiar heat from the months past knocks over all notions of security and certainty about anything.

Nacht Deutschland — It seems pretty silly to call something a national secret if you guard it so well that the New York Times can get their hands on it.

BA Days — With Paraguay safely behind me and Argentina ahead, I had fewer things to deal with but I was still in a bad place. Eventually though, all clocks run down. All games end.

If I'm Not Back Again This Time Tomorrow — By the time we were done we would have traveled roughly 25,000 kilometers, more than half way around the world.

Until You Get to the Promised Land — I try to just sit there and not turn violent. That's all you can reasonably ask of me in Texas.

All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here — In heavy traffic I crossed the Beast, found the places, got my wares and made it back alive, successfully.

Where Have All the Monkeys Gone? — We spoke in vague terms, uncommitted and agreeable, but I left it all in the backseat.

A Grey Stone Fixed in Memory — With the news came more rain, soft and slow as I can ever remember in this Beast of a City.

Stuck in the Thoughts of the Elite — Wholly uninspired by the affluence of this place, I am forced to explain how blasé it can be.

Wiping Clean the Slate —

If nature were to one day be fed up with man for the obscene amounts of pollutants we toss into the mix, Cubatão would be the first place to be removed from the surface like picking a scab.

Driving to Futility — Questions abound over the nature of this trip, its purpose, if any exists. Is this really just another business trip that happened to be to a familiar place?

Conquests in the Backseat — A compilation of a few hundred years of colonial history shows in the architecture but contemporary times have begun to take over the concrete jungle.

Reach Into My Pocket — I stick with what I see because there is nothing within those walls that I can know

Leaning Into the Afternoon — The City offers little in the sense of direction or horizon, less so at night.

Dusty Skyline — Moments pass in the São Paulo night that never seems to darken completely.

A Road to Conquer — For the first time, though, the city doesn't seem so ugly, so hopelessly destroyed.

En Route to Nowhere — I should have been born in the 1920's if I wanted the sky to be glamorous.

Fly Me To the Moon — This life of stability, of contentment, of perfect bliss will someday change. It may fall apart, or it may find its way to a better one.

A Foe, Smitten — I find the demons lurking in my rapid eye movement, sinister and dark like the confusion they come to instill.

Here We Go — This is the drug that will cure me of my writing apathy.

Browse

Stories