Too much?

So, I suppose the most exciting thing that’s happened over the past few days of sunshine and beach going has been the couple I met at a restaurant a few nights ago. They invited me over for dinner the next night to meet their 22 year old daughter. Well I went to dinner slightly nervous hoping I didn’t get kidnapped or worse. But no, instead they had an amazing house with an amazing porch that overlooked the water and the beach and far mountains. Their house is high up a hill and pretty much was just kickass. Dinner was wonderful venison patties, freshly cooked awesome turkey and flank steak. Plus two really delicious salads and some REALLY nice wine. I felt pretty guilty drinking this family's , ahem, nice wine. But they were so friendly. They have four daughters 22 year old being the oldest. So I had a wonderfully pleasant evening and then went home. Well the next morning I get a call on my mobile from the 22 year old daughter asking if I'd like to go to lunch with her at a cafe she has been meaning to try. Of course I say yes and our lunch date turns into lunch, then wandering around an art gallery and fresh fruit ice cream on a pier, plus a swim at a cool beach in the area, to a beer at this outdoor pub right on the water to take out thai food with a nice pinot noir from their house and eating and drinking and watching the sunset on the beach to watching all the stars come out. It was a great day. But I'm pretty tired today. The family is having roast for dinner tonight and I've been invited. It's kinda full on part of the family already I guess. Heh. But they are giving me a ride all the way down to Christchurch tomorrow, putting me up for the night and then taking me down to my destination near Timaru on Friday. REALLY nice. So it's kind of intense, but in two days I'll be gone gone. and plus, I would have been just killing time by myself here and having to spend money. It's nice having really nice meals and wine and company before I go serve fresh fruit ice cream and food, wine and music festivals for my final two weeks in New Zealand. Rough life eh?

But I guess that’s pretty much all the recent events. I read another book. It was alright. I also tried putting together all my travel photos into a cool slideshow video DVD disc thing which was fun to do. Stroll down memory lane if you will. But I still have photos to take etc so obviously it’s not finished. The hostel was kind enough to move me into a room by myself surrounded with windows which is just fantastic. So appreciative. I’m still really excited to come home.

Full of myself.

So, I don't know when my next post will be because I'm in a hostel that I have to pay for internet on a public computer which is way worse than free internet on my own computer at my last place. But, I thought you should all at least stay tuned in because I have some funny ass shit that's happened to me. Ok not that funny, but pretty hilarious. basically, I got picked up at a bar by a couple. And they are trying to marry me off to their 22 year old medical student daughter. Cha Ching. and they had me over tonight to wine and dine me. and boy did they ever. Let's just say. Sean loves schmoozing, and schmoozing was the name of the game, both last night drunk at the pub and tonight at their UNBELIEVABLY nice home overlooking the ocean on a hill with a gorgeous deck, really really nice wine, etc etc you imagine it. All I have to say is that it TOTALLY justifies me going out to eat at nice restaurants by myself. I totally, justified the expense of the dinner, especially since the couple bought the end of my evening drinks, then had me over for free with great food and wine, and NOW have offered me a ride all the way down to Timaru. What do I have to do? Schmooze, and chill out on the sunny ass beautiful beach for a week. Well, at least until Thursday. And, make small talk with the really cute, smart 22 year old daughter. Perrrrfect.

Viva New Zealand.

This post makes me look like an asshole. But, uh....

Homesick, yet ranting. Plus Trees.

You guys stink. No comments in forever.

Not much has happened though. I'm officially homesick. Whadda ya know? Of course, as soon as I get a plane ticket home, I can't wait to leave. Which is dumb. Dumb dumb dumb. Because I have some really fun stuff left to do here in New Zealand. And really, my departure is only a month away. But I've spent four days here in Takaka, by myself. In a fairly empty hostel. Spending the mornings running in fantastic environments. by myself. then coming in for lunch and taking a nap before heading out for an evening walk. by myself. For some reason, i feel much more alone when traveling and touring in hostels/backpackers/etc than when I WWOOF. Well, I know the reason. It's because with WWOOFing I become part of someone's family. And it's hard to feel lonely when you're part of a family. When you're touring, you are most definitely alone. So basically, I need to start WWOOFing again soon. The problem is, I have a WWOOF host set up for the beginning of February, which leaves these final days too short to get an in between host. So i'm left touring by myself for a week or so.

Imagine having a night out, going to the movies, etc by yourself. Most people say they wouldn't go to a movie by themselves. Well imagine going on vacation and staying in a hotel and doing vacation stuff, all by yourself. Well, it's not that fun. It was in the beginning. I don't know whatever. Its also awkward meeting people when you are traveling and they are traveling and your just well, it just is trust me.

So, today, despite the fantastic weather. I spent mostly inside. Moping I suppose. First I slept in instead of getting up and riding the bike 20k to the North Abel Tasman National Park and spending the day running (yes spending the whole day running since the park is big) before cycling back to the hostel for dinner. Instead, I laid in bed til about 9 30am. I don't know how these things happen. I have NO will power.

I ended up getting roped into several long long long conversations with the owner here about how he is psychic and it freaked out his sister when he was little, how he's saved lives. He also gave me 3 business lessons he's learned. How he worked as a gopher (go for it) guy temporarily for a Radisson hotel in Arizona when the big wigs for Radisson came to inspect the new hotel (they were from SF) and offered him a huge promotion etc etc etc. He declined of course because he didn't want to be in the hotel industry or in SF, he was happy as a pharmacist/hostel owner. Then, I heard about how he declined all the top med schools he got into and how he was offered a full ride to USC dental school but declined that as well. I learned about his Aunt and Uncle's death, their dyslexic son and how he had to deal with the Will and inheritance and all that jazz. I saw his homemade wedding photo album, made of out pages they made themselves out of their clothes. (like, the paper was made from their clothes) And. I saw his childhood photo album. Why not. I wasn't going anywhere. He also made me peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. So that was nice.

I went on a run the other day in the middle of the day so it was super hot all the way up to the freshest springwater in the world. freshest and clearest I think. and 60th largest spring in the world. Anyway, Pupu springs. (giggle) was the wrong place to run to when it was scorching out. Because you aren't allowed to touch the purest freshwater in teh world (duh) and so I got to stand looking at a freshwater spring of the clearest clarity and freshest freshness. Then turn around and run all the way back. Awwwhhh.

I then that evening walked to the small town of Pipi. (these Maori names are killing me. i just can't talk about them with other people with a serious tone. i mean cmon, Pupu and Pipi) I went to an old historic cemetery where many young people my age were buried. They all drowned in the Takaka River because there was no bridge back in the day and it was the young men's job to carry supplies across the river. Well naturally, since the river is large and dangerous, tons of em drowned. interesting societal decision....

One young man died at the age of 15 on my birthday 101 years before me. Two days later his older brother 17, died. i dont' know. I feel something when I visited that cemetery. And I felt the same with the old cemetery in Ireland. I like cemeteries. They are powerful places indeed.

So i spent a lot of today looking up apartments to rent in SF on craigslist, which i've been warned about multiple times. OK. I just really like reading listings. Aren't people hilarious? now I know why everyone always talks about how fun reading personals can be. I'm sure, because even housing listings read like personals. it's great.

So what else? i still want to have a Rome party. Perhaps when I have my own place. Oh, and i saw a straw bale house in the midst of production the other day and got to talk to the builder. The guy, is sorta like me in that, he knows jack shit about building, reads what he needs to do out of books and is building this house. we traded the craic for a while and when we left my host said "so you know about architecture." and i was quite surprised, but then, looking back on the conversation we had had, I said, "yeah I guess I do" and my host said, "because I had NO idea what you guys were talking about in there" I'm glad I'm only adding to my esoteric knowledge. But, I really am truly learning some pretty cool stuff about gardening, building, farming, etc. It sorta just came from accumulated experience. So that was nice. But it also has just made the list of things I want my house/apt to eventually have gigantic. I also have realized that I really really love trees. i think that's why I enjoyed claremont so much. I had beautiful mountains, and TONS of different trees. and trees are really important to me. I like them a lot and I want them all over and I want all different kinds. I love eucalyptus, which is here and all over claremont. It's beautiful and majestic and smells nice and everything. i like it. Another favorite tree is the weeping willow. I need it on a creekside in my backyard. Also, citrus trees, duh, because of food and wonderful smells. So as you can see, just in a short time i've already included a lot of trees. So yeah, trees. Maybe I should live in an arboretum. That would be sweet.

They also have a sweet tree here called a manuka. Maybe I'll try to snap a photo of one and post it. my mom used to make fun of me because my first childhood dream was to be a plantation owner (obviously I did not know what that entailed, heh.) but I think I fell in love with the plantation (funny because I have a chronic allergy to the South). The old Victorian house (with expansive wrap around porch, duh) and enough land to have a garden to feed a family, an orchard to feed a family and for beauty, and a general arborteum/ornamental garden. That's like a sustainable plantation. So I'm here to say, that after 18 years, I still desire to be a plantation owner albeit a completely different one than we traditionally think of. haha, anyway, that's kind of ridiculous.

I watched Michael Moore's Sicko today. I believe it's the first Michael Moore film I've seen. I think he sucks. But the sentimental biased movie did bring stuff to light and while I think he's a dumbass, i do support universal healthcare...which is basically what the movie is about. And well, the movie was moving. It's amazing how atrocious our healthcare is in parts of the nation, and how precarious even wealthy health insurance is. Uh, like how easily you can be stripped of your well-off health insurance. I would say it's surprising how well universal healthcare works in other countries, but I know, he just didn't show any of the problems with it. I've spoken with some people in NZ here about their healthcare (they have socialized universal healthcare) and there definitely are problems. But uh. NOWHERE near the atrocity and blatant disregard for human rights that the US healthcare system is. We are rated the worst of the developed nations. In an interesting juxtaposition, Moore examines the case of 3 9/11 rescue workers' attempt to get treatment for their respiratory and resulting problems through the US healthcare system. Which proves impossible. And then, examines the healthcare received by the al Queda representatives detained in Guantanamo Bay. Obviously, yeh. Ok. I know, but, its interesting. I would've liked to have seen him address perhaps instead the healthcare received in our prison system or something. (is there one?) but regardless. It's pretty awful. But it's pretty sickening, how a lot of us Americans, just go, "yeah yeah, its such a mess, its such a problem" and don't do jack shit about it, like don't even educate themselves so they understand our candidates positions on it, and hold them accountable. I mean, it is on the level of gross human rights violation. and its in our OWN country, involving our OWN citizens. And not just the poor invisible citizens we don't really count when we think of America. Like the Americans that DO normally count as Americans. it's ridiculous. it's funny how many people here have said they are too scared to visit the US, either because every has guns, or they're petrified of getting hurt while there. Nobody will travel to the US without traveler's insurance, because it's just too much of a risk. Whereas, that's non-existent for a lot of other Western nations. Go to Britain, France, Ireland, New Zealand (don't know about the other ones) but you have not to worry, you will get health care if you require it, and for free.

Perhaps Americans, wouldn't be so averse toward taxes and taxation, if our tax dollars were going toward providing top notch health care for free, and free retirement pensions, etc instead of the fanciest new bomb, or revamping our nuclear arsenal. Michael Moore points out in his movie that its easy to govern frightening and demoralized citizens. Duh, and he contrasts France with America, France, he portrays as having a much livelier revolutionary spirit, where the govt is afraid of the people whereas "in America, the people are afraid of the govt" yeah no flipping way, when our govt wields such an overwhelming physical force/threat, what other reaction would you get from the citizenry? ESPECIALLY after the discourse of the Bush administration with us or against us. With the way the US govt deals with those without the ability to pay for health care, it's as good as the US govt using the military against us. Would we really dare protesting even if we cared?

And while I'm on it...where is our public space in which to protest? The freeways? Storm down to Town Hall? (if anyone could find it) The Mall? that's not public. Are we gonna blog about it? where are we going to voice our discontent? I mean, you look at a lot of protests in the past, yes, some are highly organized etc. But a lot of protests don't need a unified clear objective. Sometimes a protest is effective just to communicate that Enough is Enough, and we aren't going to allow this anymore, so do something else. We don't necessarily even have to have a better solution, we just have to tell our ELECTED officials, to come up with a better one. No? Am I wrong? perhaps just an asshole.

Political Satire is NOT a suitable replacement for protest. Watching the Daily Show is NOT protesting.

ok good night. I'm tuckered out.

Meal Review

So I hitchhiked from Karamea today to Takaka. It took pretty much all day. Started off at 10 am and didn’t arrive in Takaka until 8pm or so. It was a semi rainy day, and I spent a lot of time waiting at crossroads. But again. Now that I’m here, I don’t mind. And I’m glad I hitched. My first ride was with an Icelander. It was an interesting ride. We spoke about general versus practical education. Iceland has a population of 300,000. I thought this was crazy.

I then waited in Westport (both times I’ve hitched through Westport it’s taken forever. So I don’t really care too much for the place) for two hours. Before a man picked me up who proceeded to tell me ALL about his life. Including his habits with prostitutes his troubles with his ex-wife. His theory on careers and why he doesn’t have one. He’s building his own house. It’s sweet.

Next, I waited in Murchison for another two hours. This sucked. But eventually a really hippie van picked me up with a guy driving who had spent the last 8 days at a Sun Dance ceremony festival (it’s Native American, nothing to do with New Zealand) he explained that he was adjusting back into the world again and everything moved SO fast. His van was SO noisy that we could barely speak to each other. He refused to raise his voice in order that I might hear him. And we all know me and my penchant for hard of hearing behavior. So. Yeah, I ended up saying Oh really? And Yeah? A lot. Perfect. Whatever. He took me a long way and finally I was picked up by a German who had been working/traveling throughout New Zealand for the past 4/5 months. He had just graduated high school. He also engaged me in a discussion about general versus practical education. Seems to come up a lot when I try to explain to people what I spent the past four years doing. For a lot of other countries the American liberal arts education scheme doesn’t exist and well, just seems crazy to them. So not only did I do that, I also majored in something like Philosophy and Religious Studies, not like, psychology, or something that at least sounds like it has a career associated with it. So anyway. I’m here at my new backpackers. I won’t or maybe I will, be working here. But I scheduled a stay here without WOOFing, kinda like four days “vacation” in Golden Bay before doing a final stint of WWOOFing in Timaru before heading home at the end of February !! I am very excited about going home. So yeah. I am going to try to do some touristy things like, who knows actually. But I’m going to attempt to do some sweet ass trail running. The owner of this backpackers is a guy named Paul who vaguely reminds me of my stepfather. Or perhaps maybe, his place reminds me of something perhaps my stepfather in some alternate universe would own. Anyway, it’s funny. The guy is great. Went to Lakewood High and USC in LA so we had a nice little chat about the area. Sweet.

So anyway, old guy ex-pat American? Yeah kinda. Whoo. It was a rainy day and it’s supposed to rain tomorrow in the Golden Bay, but after that it should clear up. We’ll see. I’m sort of mixed about the place at the moment. I feel like if I met one or two cool people I could hang out with, this place would be sweet. But at the moment. I’m not sure I can muster the energy to explore by myself etc etc. You know? But maybe I’ll try because I have to.

So since I didn’t eat or drink anything all day (I tend not to do anything when I hitch because a) I always want to be ready to get a ride so that means no stopping for food, plus who wants to pick someone up when they’re scarfing down food? And b) I don’t drink anything because I don’t want to have to pee in the middle of getting a ride.) So, I decided to splurge a bit on my dinner when I arrived and partly I did because I had too, everywhere else in town was closed including the grocery store.

I got the Siefried Pinot Gris, which was a delicious wine but I should have ordered something drier or perhaps just less sweet for my dinner. Which was, char grilled vegetable stack. It came with a creamy goat cheese and was SUPPOSED to come with a basil pesto. They were out of the basil pesto and instead served a sun-dried tomato pesto. The basil would have been better, the sun dried tomato just didn’t quite work. The goat cheese made the dish, and goat cheese is amazing in general. The veggies were quite delicious and came in a nice variety. There were courgettes (zucchini) kumara (sweet potato, yam type things) Jersey Benne potatoes I believe, carrots, squash, eggplant and Portobello mushroom. All served on a bed of mesculin (a delicious spicy lettuce that I helped grow/harvest at Linkwater Organics). The mesculin bed was a FANTASTIC idea. It worked so well with the cheese and the veggies were done sweetly so it complimented extremely well. I don’t particularly like mushroom and as it served as perhaps the only bitter veggie on the plate I think they could have added something else to balance. The sweet potato was quite sweet and the carrots appeared to have absorbed some of that. The Jersey Benne’s were undercooked and served too hot. Cmon, fucked up potatoes? I also think that overall it was a mushy dish in texture and would have been supplemented well with some sort of nut, say walnut to go with the goat cheese, or hazelnut to tie in with the kumara. Either that or a larger bed of mesculin. Or a tangier dressing sauce. I think the basil would have been better, the sun-dried tomato blended too much into the taste of the veggies. I didn’t need a veggie pesto on veggies I needed an herb.

It was a good dish overall. I ordered a cappuccino as an after dinner drink and it was just run of the mill but a good call. It was served at the correct temperature and they didn’t burn it. I feel like there’s no excuse for burnt coffee. Also, when I was younger I used to say that you could tell a nice restaurant by it’s napkins. (Look for linen). Which, may have been young naïve and simplistic, but another sign I thought to look for tonight was whether or not they served your meal with salt and pepper. I think this is a bad sign. If your relationship as diner to chef is appropriate for fine dining, you should not require and your meal should not require things such as salt and pepper. The dish should be appropriately salted or peppered etc. And if you have a penchant for salt. Stop fucking up good dishes. So yeah. They served my meal with a salt and pepper shaker. No thank you please. Unless you haven’t confidence in your chef.

I guess I did that meal review because I am tired and didn’t have much else to talk about in my blog, but also because I really enjoy dining alone. And especially at nice restaurants. Mainly because whenever I’m out dining (alone or not) I always think those who are dining well alone, are surrounded with mystery. Haha, so yeah, I think it’s fun. Because I can be mysterious. And because it’s easier to pay attention to a good meal when you’re alone because what the hell else are you supposed to do. I also had a nice walk home in the rainy dark.

There are Danish gymnasts staying in the dorm room here. But apparently they aren’t legit gymnasts, they’re like performing gymnasts. I got disappointed. But Danes are always cool, since you know, there’s only 5 million of them. So yeah, can ya dig?

I just read another Haruki Murakami book, which he may become my favorite author. It was entitled Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. It was really creative and had his characteristic style. I like him a lot. Everyone at my last place ranted and raved about Tim Robbins especially Jitterbug Romance. I’m skeptical to say the least. Ugh. We’ll see, I’ll give him a try. But I’m already biased against the poor guy. I’m just worried because the people who recommend Robbins enthusiastically also really enjoy Paulo Coehlo whom in my opinion is one of the most superficial allegorical writers ever. I mean, cmon. It’s like summer romance novel reading feel goody good. And that the world is neat and perfect even in its pathetic attempt to assimilate pain and suffering. Whoops, that was a rant. But yeah, so I’m skeptical of the “amazing” (read: flowery) descriptions and language. Wertever. It probably sucks.

Penultimate Night

So I haven't posted in a while because I haven't felt like it. I've gotten a bit lazy maybe. I don't know. I'm feeling sort of blah at the moment. And, I have a sneaking suspicion its this damn anticipation of leaving. As my mom astutely pointed out "you always leave before you leave"...which, is definitely true. The one exception: college. There. I was not ready to leave and I arguably haven't left. But, I am hoping and trying not to leave New Zealand until I actually leave. I think a change of scenery will do me good. Begin another chapter and thoughts of ending will necessarily be delayed. So I leave, most likely Sunday morning. It's Friday night now and it seems I will delay my departure originally schedule for tomorrow morning...another day. Three new WWOOFers have arrived here two Americans and a German. I'm beginning to now think that New Zealand is filled with Americans and Germans. They are definitely the majority. Although, prior to Rongo's I haven't encountered many Americans at all. Germans aplenty though.

things have been continuing as normal here. Still working, still same old same old. We've had a string of good weather and I stole away to the beach by myself again a few days ago. It was nice. Ran until I was tired passed out on the sand for a while, went for a swim in the ocean and then dried off in the sun and ran back. It's quite fun. And I quite enjoy it. I enjoy the sun really. But we all knew that.

Prior to the arrival of the two new American WWOOFers the only other American, Kyle the resident artist and I cooked up a delicious Mexican dinner for the crew (mexican is so good and I'm going through SERIOUS withdrawl) so yeah. We had deliciousness for dinner before starting the inaugural Damn Yanks Radio Show. You'll recall that Rongo's has it's own local radio station that is broadcast 24/7 without ANY commercials (except a plug for Kyle's art classes). We are allowed to host a radio show pretty much whenever we want. and so we elected to host one apres Mexican Dinner. It was fantastic. It lasted four hours and it was four hours of fun. We went through our fair share of beer and just basically had a wild time. We recorded it and so tomorrow's task will be attempting to burn it on CD. You may request copies. Haha, four hours. I'm not sure who wants a copy of a four hour radio show. But hey. It was fun and cool and we had a blast. Complete with fuck-ups like Kyle leaving the mic on after starting a song and therefore alerting all of our captive listeners of the fact that she could grab me another beer when she went into pee. We had a lovely chuckle after someone so kindly pointed out the little green light on the soundboard indicating mic power. Whoops.

Anyway, I'm a bit tired this evening and feel like there isn't much to post about other goings on since I last posted. Which is a bit sad. But i've settled into a routine and well, routines are boring and don't offer much in ways of fun interesting blog stories to read. So yeah. There ya go. I did do a little write up of our beach activity this evening though and hopefully it reads much better than my last piece of shit. Enjoy the three day weekend you Americans you. and thank Dr. MLK Jr.

Swimming at Dusk:

The moon alight with excitement for the night. It’s turn now that the brilliant sun has retired behind the waves. Waves, so many waves. Crashing and rolling over one another eager to greet the sand like an old friend before seeping back into nothingness in all manner of anticlimax. With the sun gone, the ocean looked cold and frothing. The wind was calm, the beach grass and reeds rustling readying for bed. The warmth from the recent day still clung to nooks and crannies slowly ebbing away reluctantly in the gentle breeze. And the moon, beaming. The clouds had been kept at bay all afternoon and it looked as though the moon would have full reign over this evening. Her excitement was palpable.

Nervously, we all stood around. We had missed the actual sunset and now our walk culminated in standing in the way most new friends do in medium sized groups. The semi circle. Atop the dune watching the afterglow off on the horizon and the layer upon layer of surf crashing with a subdued energy that seemed to belie the subsurface masses awakening for the evening. This ocean was alive, none of that unending flatness, that serenity and infinity of the doldrums of the oppressively hot afternoon. No glaring reflections, only soft light, reds violets and burned oranges. Mixing together like spilled paint, the ocean churning them together into the most fantastic mess. Looking at each other nervously, it seemed to perfect a scene to be lost in formalities, formalities that are so particular and so stubbornly held onto when in new and foreign environments. This was not the time for them. And so, with two swoops of denim and flash of green fleece I was sprinting my heart leaping toward the ocean froth. Aware of the four women still on the bank, most likely watching my bare back and exposed thighs bounding away across the sand, I focused on the waves.

The cool evening air lent the ocean the warmth it needed to keep us in the water. Pleasant, blending together in a way that made it difficult to tell which was cooler than the other. Sometimes the ocean was warming the air and sometimes the air was warming the water. I couldn’t keep it back for long, I swam back from the surf to ankle deep water and took off down the beach. I could care less about the people I had left back on the dunes. I was running, at the edge of land and sea, night and day, sanity and insanity. Flirting with such metaphorical and potentially physical disaster if I didn’t keep a close eye on my footfall and the stones being stolen away from the beach by the strong undertow.

When my breath grew too short and my chest heaved too much I turned and ran back skipping through the water back to the spot in front of the group. The floodgates had broken and three others had shed their clothes and come rushing to join the tumbling joy of the waves. Standing waist deep in swirling colors and watching the clouds slowly burn with a deep red I splashed water back at the surf. Smiling at all that infinitude so nicely encapsulated. It was an ironic smile.

Before the scene grew tedious, I climbed the sandy dunes and wrapped my sand colored grocery store towel around my waist, slipped into my sandals and opened another beer. Walking back dripping along the gravel road, under that moon, we hadn’t any need for words. We just squished and squeaked our way slowly back home, under the shy stars that had only dared to join the brilliant Lune.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

So people been buggin me to get photos of this nasty do up. These aren't the most flattering of shots for it, trust me it does look a lot better than these photos show. But I'm too lazy to set up a model shoot for this haircut. So deal.

If I feel old when I'm young will I feel young when I'm old?

So it was partly sunny today. This is a partly good thing in my world. I got a bit of sun. Ran for the second day in a row. Which is also a partly good thing in my world. My quads were sore. Hmm, no wonder since yesterday happened to be a 15k loop that I did in the rain, and much to my surprise in 55 minutes. This was great. I at least have a lil something left over from my near decade of training. So, yes, today I was sore. Even after doing yoga yesterday to try for the love of God to loosen up my damn hamstrings. And it was all sunny on my run. So good. Although I kinda felt like I had heatstroke or sunstroke or whatever (one of those make believe illnesses like tendinitis and asthma). I was of course dehydrated as well because well it was supposedly Sarah's "Last Night" which is an infamous invocation in PPXC lore that compels one to "party hard". So yeah, also the proprietor of the bar is an extremely friendly man and after engaging me in a discussion about tourism and Karamea (side bar: karamea is gaining a large reputation in New Zealand and broader circles for it's innovative approach to tourism. It is one of the only communities that has taken a large stand in controlling how tourism affects it. Touristic activities, services and growth are all extremely scrutinized and regulated by the community. Many of the towns in New Zealand have been "taken over" by tourism and altered against resident wishes by large travel and adventure companies that bring in 400 bed hostels, jet boat rides, etc etc etc.) So being a local pub owner, he was interested in what I (as a tourist) expect, want, think of/from/of Karamea. He was impressed and ended up buying us all (12 or so) a round of Jameson whisky which to say the least, didn't leave the glasses light. Great guy. But this was toward the end of the evening. And well, whisky at the end of the evening doesn't portend well for Sean's hydration levels. Good night though. Good night. I really enjoy his pub. And somewhat surprised myself in my discussion with him. It was nice that he voiced his impressions of me because for me, it served as a very nice reminder of "oh yeah..." I do have skillsets, "oh yeah...." I can do something worthwhile. And it made me perhaps more confident in entertaining the idea of having to do market research and trend analysis. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. (isn't that grammatically incorrect? neither here or there)

Otherwise, what else do you people want to know. Not like you have to validate my blog or anything, but I am getting the feeling that interest in the blog is declining. Perhaps it's a parallel feeling that I've been having about being anxious to be home. Perhaps knowing that I'll be home or with you again soon, people feel the need to read my blog less. Whatever. I'm being yelled at to get in the shower before we go out again tonight (tonight is really Sarah's "Last Night") plus there's free live music. Derh, no brainer.


WARNING CREATIVE WRITING ATTEMPT

I tried playing around and I don't think it came out well. I like the idea of a disjointed inner monologue. I wish that the text would be able to jump around so sporadically whilst somehow maintaining some semblance of consistency in order to cohere and well, be readable really. So obviously it needs a ton of work. I didn't say I was going to post polished pieces here. Only scrappy crappy images that I record. And other things like this, when I experiment with dumb shit. This is all a large prefatory excuse to absolve myself of the sin which is this bit. Anywho. Yeah.

Bush Lounge:

This room can’t be larger than 50 ft by 50 ft. And thank god. Everything that’s squeezed in here is enough. God my head hurts. Isn’t this punishment providence of the Sun? Why now? The colors are warm and lend themselves easily to the slurry my eyes seemed mired in. And that music. That music. Is it upbeat? Is it sad? What the fuck are they saying anyway? Ah, but it’s swimming. It’s not all bad, in fact, I could swim with this. am I swaying? Damn music. Lagrimas of gold. What does that even mean? Is it sad? Nah, nah, I don’t need another. Damn. Do I want one or not? Why not just order another? You want one. Ah, that music. Like I’m in a rowboat these crescendos. Yeah, yeah definitely. The red does look better blended in with that orangish yellowy spot. This! This is it. Haha. Yeah this is all I wanted. That fit man, and is that his wife? I suppose mother would be out of the question, and nah, sister would, well, nah, no not his sister. But her? How’d that happen? But would ya look at that. Yeah fine I’ll have another. They’re organic anyway right? Want to support the industry. Hah, hot damn would you look at that. She hasn’t a clue what she’s doing. She’s just wriggling her fat ass around. Haha. He’s not much better no, definitely not, but somewhere in his steps there seems to be a pattern. He’s going somewhere with that. Are they drunk? Kudos to them if they aren’t, the company here in this town doesn’t seem like the forgiving type. This is why I’m here. Yeah, this is great. They are why I’m here.
Dang that music. I could listen to that all night. Mmm, and this table. It’s so big. And it’s smooth. What a nice yellow golden glow. Hypnotizing. Yeah that’s what this is. These colors, this music. That voice. Sotto voce right? Hah, I don’t know. That’s Itlalian. No, this guy isn’t Italian. Up and down, down and up, lagrimas, yeah lagrimas, de oro. All curves. The music is massaging all these people and colors together. Smudging it together, into one beautiful hue. Distilled. No. not distilled. It’s all still there. Every bit of it. But look at it. Right there. What a beautiful hue. Yeah, a real color of life. Hah. Color of life, I should write that one down. Color of life. But isn’t it? Haha. It is it is, it’s a color of life. Contentedness? Relaxed? Hmm, who gives a shit? Buhm buhm bah bah buhm buhm. Dang, listen to that. Yeah ok one more. I’ve gotta join that hue. I’m in the center of the planet. Watch out coming through, beverage in tow. Dang would you feel that? Up and down, down and up blah blah blah-o blah blah-as, yeah just keep singing. Haha. Yeah, this is why I’m here. This is it. My head hurts. So, that’s it’s problem. Whoa yeah, this room could use some of that black and violet, let some of it in, the stars are too far away but we’ll take some of you right there, yeah mix in here with this red extravanganza. Haha, yes perfect. Feel that? Oo, perfect, yes. I like that laugh. Good one. Hey man, you just keep up that wiggling. Yep, nope, no more. I’m done, yeah, I’m done. Hmm, yeah maybe that song is sad. What was that last bit? Clandestino? Yes. Exactly. I gotta go.

Tired again.

I'm tired again because this time, there was a local music event (like there is almost every night except this time I decided I'd go despite the $10 cover charge which, incidentally was generously paid for by my host) that ended at 3am in the morning with us dancing atop large beautifully handcrafted wooden tables in a small but impressive bar at Market Cross in Karamea. The live music was just a guy and his guitar, and he played mainly love ballad type songs that were sort of fine for an older crowd but a lil low key for a Friday night in a pub. But then, after he was sufficiently drunk he invited this Nova Scotia chick to join him playing her violin. Then, it was a great ol' honky tonky git down. And like I said, we ended up dancing on the tables. Quality.

Also, I feel old. I was visited by the ghost of Christmas future or some bullshit like that because. sigh. well before I launch into it, let's first say, I'm feeling old. Oh? Did I already mention that. Well as a 22 year old I feel old, and I don't want to hear anything from people who are older. I don't care how old you are.

So, I feel like my old man life officially started last night because, lo and behold, a fairly cute girl was bar tending and we were making good conversation. I can't say I was that interested but thought it was harmless and why not have fun yeah? So, me, being rather unpracticed in the whole chat people up in a bar atmosphere, stumbled through a couple hours chatting and flirting with this chick. Normally, I'd talk and talk and talk and end up just making some what of a fool of myself, so it was surprising to myself (adding to my feeling of oldness) that when I wasn't sure what to say, I said nothing at all. I felt altogether like a different guy, some other guy from a movie or something. But yeah. I'll skip to the punchline, the girl was 16. SIXTEEN. Now, normally, for me, that wouldn't be that old, except now I'm TWENTY TWO. Six years. well for me. that sounds like a lot. I felt like some old ex-pat flirting with the local underage women in some hot humid tropical bar. Which is basically what this was. So go figure. Multiple times I found myself listening more to my astonished mind asking, "What are you doing?" than to whatever she happened to be talking about at the moment.

The flies in the hostel are going nuts over Luna's deer carcass soup that's been boiling on the stove for 2 days now.

So yeah, I ended up having to pull a classic Sean disappearance act at the end of the evening. Partly because I could no longer afford the $4.50 organic Lager's I'd been drinking (they were really good) and because it was 3 am and because I was getting trapped into a potentially awkward, growing alarming situation with a SIXTEEN year old girl. It was one of those times where you just let your shoulders sag because, "What are you supposed to do?" So after one final song on the tabletop. Helping her get down because she was "really drunk" in that sort of tipsy neophyte way. Sigh. I disappeared when she went behind the bar to get another drink. Sprinting down the deserted late night into and out of pools of yellow streetlight, and yes, you can picture this, giggling to myself wildly the whole way. When I heard a car coming from behind me I leapt off the road and stood behind a small telephone pole chest heaving. Rotating around as the car drove by I stayed out of sight hoping not to encounter my ride home whose sobriety was undoubtedly questionable. Flushed with the heat of the humid night and the exhilaration of my scandalous encounter and subsequent flight, I crept silently into the hostel and went to bed. My final thought before crashing into the Land of Nod, was a half formed, "what are you doing?" My twenty push-ups this morning were pretty difficult.

So yeah. Today I've had to do a fair bit of work. But we have a BBQ scheduled for dinner this evening and potentially a bonfire or a movie night. The hostel emptied out yesterday? today? so it's pretty quiet around here since we haven't anyone new checking in. Marie the Frenchwoman left to continue her travels and soon Sarah the Irishwoman will be gone as well. Leaving Luna the Dane and Johannes the German with me. I plan to stay another week and then make my way down and across the island to Timaru where I will be WWOOFing with a young couple who travel around and sell strawberries and ice cream at arts and music festivals. Sounds fun enough yeah? i think it will be a nice way to end my time in New Zealand.

I am still trying to consider whether or not I want to pop over to Australia for a week or two before returning home. I probably won't but it's pretty darn tempting. We'll see. I met someone here who offered a free place to stay in Melbourne (a place I have never been) and spoke very very highly of it...which is the place I was considering visiting beforehand anyway, so we'll see. Whatever.

Euro-Aussie-Kiwi-Rugby-FauxHawk-RatTail-Mullet Thing.

I got a haircut.

the Danish chick Luna cut it for me. And now, I'm crazy looking. Actually, I look about 6-7 years younger. It's pretty crazy how much a haircut can do. But I look about 15 now, seriously, not just normal young lil' guy Sean looking, but early teens for sure. But, I like it. I look like a punk. Pictures coming.

Lots has happened sort of, but no one's commented or anything so I've been pretty unmotivated to write here. I attempted to get into the habit of writing at least a page every morning when I woke up and instead I got in the habit of doing 20 push-ups every morning. hey at least I got into a habit. Any sign of discipline is a good sign in my opinion at this place. It's been cool but the not working so much has actually been difficult. I've been here a week and it seems like forever. I have very little to do since I can't always leave and go off to the beach because we sort of have to float around the backpackers place in case any of the guests need help or etc etc etc. It's also been overcast today and yesterday which just pisses me off. I was weeding the garden paths this morning and remembered or noticed or what have you, that one thing I honestly haven't gotten tired of or something I can honestly appreciate every day (when it occurs) is waking up to bright sunshine and a blue sky. This happened almost every day in college and thinking, almost every day I would take note of it when I woke up and of course appreciated it greatly. Even when I had it every day I appreciated it. Not like, "you need some clouds and rain to appreciate the sunshine" uh, no that just doesn't make sense. I appreciate the sunshine when it's always sunny. So anyway, it turns out that not only must it be warm, but it must also be sunny, for Sean to be in a good mood. It's not necessarily a bad mood, but waking up to anything but blue sky and sunshine is like an automatic tick against the day. It's not the best way to start the day, let's say.

so , like i said, a lot has happened. i've learned that two of my three hosts are just really passive aggressive, which is just behavior I can't tolerate. "Sean, do you see what I'm doing?" "uh...." "I'm washing other people's dishes." Just freaking tell me, Hey Sean could you help me with these dishes, or how about, hey sean, could you take care of these dishes for me? or even, hey Sean if you see dishes just lying around could you wash em up and put em away. Thanks. Then. no problem. why put me through the exercise of guessing what you want. Anyway. Not that big of a deal. Just annoying behavior.

so, some younger backpackers came through and the five of us workers fraternized with them in the Radio Station, which was awesome. Taught them a bunch of drinking games, had a few laughs. Good Good. It was nice just to, I'm not sure. Do stuff I'm used to? Or do stuff that reminds me of home. I haven't played drinking games in a long time. So yeah. Little slice of home, although instead of PPXC brethren, it was a Canadian, a Dutchman, 2 Englishmen, 2 Germans, a Frenchwoman, a Dane and some Kiwis. So yeah. whatevs.

then what else? I watched this local guy butcher a deer carcass. Sweet. We have two HUGE pots of stew boiling in the kitchen as I type courtesy of our resident chef from Denmark. She's great. (to avoid confusion: this place does not have a 'resident chef' but right not Luna, the Dane is living/working here and she is a gourmet chef)

I also herded some sheep. The crew thought it was funny to lock me in the corral with the sheep and tell me to bring them out a male lamb. They all laughed as this American city boy chased sheep around in a circle bending over to try and assess the sex of these panting sheep. it was funny. Let's all have a good chuckle about it. I had to carry this heaving sheep out and over the fence and put it into the back of the track. It's what I do.

As for everything else. For the first time in a long time I am getting really anxious to go home. I think its because perhaps I'm getting close to going home. It's the same anxiety of wanting to finish a long run when you get to the last 2-3 miles. You pick up the pace, working harder than you really want to and making the final mile tougher than it needs to be. That's kinda what's happening right now. I can feel I'm close and I'm starting to indulge in the thoughts of home that just make the final month and a half I have here harder and harder to deal with. Stupid me.

we had a kick ass Indian curry potluck last night and we all stayed up drinking and dancing and playing crazy music. One of the owner's good long time friends was visiting from Australia and had just arrived. So it was a celebration of sorts and everyone was feeling chipper. So, naturally, i'm tired right now. because i didn't get good sleep and i spent the whole morning weeding weeding weeding. I had vanilla ice cream with freshly chopped mint from the garden for lunch. hee. so. i do what i want.

OK, as a test, here is a rough draft image that I scribbled down after a run a few weeks ago:

Downhill Running:

Turning around and heading back along the track I had just spent laboriously minute after minute trying to climb, a thought feeling memory came into full view directly in front of me. I felt, all of a sudden, lonely. Now, I’ve been traveling by myself for more than 2 weeks now and haven’t once felt lonely. But here, on this trail, along the beautiful Marlborough Sounds, the Queen Charlotte Track, certainly not empty. I felt lonely. Because here I was, in a Wilderness Park, running downhill after a hard climb. And doing it alone. Will wasn’t here. Crosby wasn’t here. Not McDavid or Swanny. Nate wasn’t here. Nor the little freshmen, like Brian, John, or Andrew. Nobody was here, with me. Doing what I’ve done so many times with all of them around me. Beside me, in front of me, behind me. I had relaxed, the downhill direction being much easier, but as I let out a large breath, I almost caught myself looking around, looking around no doubt, for those I am accustomed to sharing this with. I wanted to share the relief that followed a hard climb. Now that I was cruising, I wanted someone to talk to, banter with, to slap on the back and speculate about what the dining hall may have in store today.
I had always treated the Ridge as a race. No matter who I was with, no matter how I felt, When that first incline really got going, I turned mean, if only for myself. And cruising or dragging my ass up that climb, punishing visible or invisible demons, I focused on the Task. But the downhill, the inevitable consequence of running up, was a time to enjoy my company. Justifying to myself that the uphill was where the benefit of the workout lay, and the downhill, simply useless, in fact, only good for my seething knees to plot for their ruthless revenge 20 years down the line. No, the downhill saw me as a different beast. Chatty, flippant, practically carefree. Running downhill, as if I hadn’t suffered a bit in the preceding minutes. Basking in the glow of a job completed, a UV filled SoCal morning, and the positive energy of my teammates.


Cheers guys. Hope the weekend comes soon for you. I'm practically there, considering I'm day ahead of y'all.

Rain.

It's raining here. Which is fine, because I got fairly tan weeding the other day. Which, as we all know, is all I care about. My first WWOOF host made fun of how concerned about my skin I was. But whatever. I clean toilets. Hah. it's demeaning, but I work about and hour and a half each day and in return get to stay in a sweet ass place for free. Although, I cook all my own meals and that is already getting old. For some reason, all I can think of making is rice with stir-fried veggies. Even when considering other possibilities, all I can think about is cutting up more veggies. What would I eat if not veggies? That seems to be all the food in the world. You can't have a dinner of mainly fruit, because that's weird. And I guess maybe pasta in some sort of sauce? But that's just cutting up veggies. So whatever, I can see how being a chef/house-keeper (what would be a suitable short term to substitute for wife?) could get boring having to cook everyday and really, simply cutting veggies ALWAYS. I guess if I had a better spice rack. Also, groceries are expensive and buying them for myself with my money sucks. I much prefer working for a place that cooks and buys my food. I don't mind washing dishes. Here I do everything from start to finish. Sigh.

But, I am very happy. Something I think may or may not have been evident in most of my posts since arriving here in New Zealand. Yes, this has been very good for me. But positive things are so difficult for me to write about. They just exist. It's the negative things that are good fodder for writing....(does that mean my writing is just a glorified form of complaining?) maybe...

So yeah. I at random times throughout the day just get overwhelmed with such a positive feeling. Like one memorable one yesterday was running on the beach. it a deserted beach and a precursory day to to today's rain. You know, the kind where the sky's dreariness weighs so heavily on its mind that it begins to blend into the ocean and the land covering everything with a thin but opaque grey cloud of indistinguisability. Yes. it was one of those days. and the deserted beach fit right in. Not a soul out there and me running, with a roaring surf and my short (and all too quick) breaths. I opted to ditch the shoes because the sand is so fine and soft (not to mention nowhere near solid although it appears so...). It was great. I needed a camera because this beach, first, is looooong and flat the sand is packed down (so it appears) you, know, like the sand right by the oceans edge, its like that almost all the way up to the grassy dune banks. None of that deep wide ill defined footprint type loose dry sand. It all looks neat and flat and precise. But it is really soft and the footprints sink deeply in creating well defined dark footprints on a blank sand canvas. And here it was that I ran barefoot, running, not even noticing after a while the gull circling above my head (too high for rocks to reach, i tested) squawking at me insistently. Impotent to inflict any more damage than a mind filling persistent caw that pitched exactly to shove one's sanity out to sea, it followed me along the water's edge. But it was no competition for my mind stimulated to a heighten attention and awareness (no where near proportionate with my pallor surroundings). The mountains in the far off distance barely perceptible from the sea, the grassy slowly and coarsely brushing in the breeze and the sand groaning silently beneath each foot were all louder than this gull's problem with me. Eventually it flew off and I was again on my own. On this beach, my beach. Not my beach, this beach. This wild beach. Look at that surf. This wild beach. i needed a camera, because when I finally turned to go back (after a short potentially scandalous swim break), I could see my solitary mark on this scene. My singular trail leading back into the grey. one footprint directly in front of the other. Not the usual slightly staggered footprints of normal walking gait, but my particular single file run prints. It was a snake of my effort, it was my mark on this world. it was the confirmation of my existence. and oddly enough, proof to my wandering mind that yes, I had been here. and I did come from there. And that yes, I was here. I could very easily convince myself that I no longer existed in all this grey. In all this solitude. I might've floated away never to return without that thin trail, back to me and back to the makeshift sandy parking lot just behind one of the many dunes with an old hippie wagon and newish dark blue subaru.

whoa, that image sort of ran away from me. I guess that's what you get when I don't have a camera and can't post a picture. Anyway, the point was. I was really happy at that moment. Today I have not done much. I watched Ghost Dog with some guests and other WWOOFers, I thought it was lackluster and boring and much too long. And now, it's getting late for dinner, but I'm not hungry thanks to the two cakes a fellow WWOOFer spent the afternoon baking. Yum.

I've started to read The New Yorker online and perhaps will start reading the Atlantic Monthly as well, because over the years I have read some really good and admirable articles in those publications and while I am struggling here to get on the stick with my own writing, I'm hoping I can get some sense of form, or at least structural ideas from the fiction written there. I don't know. and that frustrates me. I am easily frustrated when it comes to this. my own writing that is. hah, or lack thereof, I have written really anything new for a while. Damn. I just get tired when I start thinking of it. But I can make myself do it, I just go through about a week of feeling shitty about it and then POW, like magic I get a really productive 6 hours where I write a novel or something (thesis. hee) so we'll see. But it has reduced my mental workload to think about writing series of essays instead of trying to crank out a rough draft novel that will shift the Earth's axis. So yeah, I'm working on essays. I think I'll do another poll, the results of which I will ponder deeply on whether I should post some of my rough images, ideas, etc. on here for all y'all. Whatever. I gotta write some shit and have somebody at a cool magazine or something think its great. Brian suggested I write a screenplay that will get picked up so that I can get my Screenwriters Guild Association certification so that Melissa's mom can set me up in some Miller Genuine Draft commercials. He thinks it'd be a good way to jumpstart my acting career. Wouldn't that be nice? I have NO idea how to start writing a screenplay. I can't even remember what the one's I've read looked like. but yeah. writing. cool. I often think about writing when I remember I have to get a job for when I'm back in the States and I get depressed about job hunting. I get depressed not so much about the idea of getting a job (i'm actually sort of excited about it in a twisted way) but because my resume actually is a pile of monkey dung. there's nothing on it really. But hey, peaking in high school isn't that bad right? Whatever. I'm holding out for that dream job. While working on revitalizing the modern aristocrat. yes, that's right. The modern aristocrat. .... think about it....

i guess i could just bum around, take the GREs and apply for school in the fall. The deal is though. I need money to go around the States visiting all my friends for that year before scoring a sweet pad in Santa Barbara and jumpstarting my genius scholar career and before my schedule gets so bogged down with speaking commitments and lecturing offers. i don't know. maybe I'll just try to the lowest shittiest job for the biggest evilest corporation America has to offer...McDonald's is always hiring and I'm sure I'd make a great Starbucks barister. Or maybe I could do sales for Kraft Foods. I did honestly look into applying to Conde Nast Publications (they do GQ, the New Yorker, Vanity Fair and a bunch others). Ahhhh. wasn't life simple in college? wake up, run, go play beach volleyball, check email, go to lunch. play beach volleyball, go to practice, eat dinner, check email, play halo, do some reading, go to bed. yes. that was nice.

ok i'll let you go. you probably have work in the morning, or work you should be doing now, or you're probably really tired from your long day at work.

Europeans

Uh. So, it's late and I'm tired but suppose I should blog. What about today. Sorry, this stuff really isn't funny and entertaining like perhaps some of my other entries.

People at Rongo's (the place I'm working for)

Luna--Dane, acts just like a Dane would as I'd guess since I've never met a Dane. Crazy, loud, out there and awesome. Faint hint of 8 year old boy with A.D.D. or something. Excited by life and on the go.

Johannes--German. Tall blonde guy. Deep voice with high short laugh. Reserved somewhat, or perhaps not so gregarious as the others.

Sarah--Northern Irish, so nice to hear an Irish accent again (weird huh?) it feels like home somehow. Very typical Irish look.

Marie--French, very French, from the Alps, loves eternal summers. Completely thrilled to be in New Zealand.

We all went to the beach which is amazing and close by to watch the sunset. It reminded me much of Michigan's Lake Superior coast. Sand dunes all along the beach with great dune-type grass and lots and lots of really fine, soft sand. Waves crash four or five different times before rolling up the flat beach. Mountains on either ends of the beach fade and blend into the waning evening sky. Awesome. The Europeans all sit down for a smoke. I refrain. The Dane remarks, oh, a healthy American, that's a surprise. It was funny to see all these Europeans sitting in a row. And between the 5 of us, representing USA, Ireland, Denmark, Germany and France. I felt cool. They think I'm weird. Because I laugh all the time at nothing. Seems pretty standard for this guy. "Crazy American" yes, that is my name. I also seem to work a lot harder than any of the others. I don't know this for sure, since they've been here weeks and it's my second day, but still.

Thanks to my mother and a horrendous childhood of ridiculous standards for household chores, the owner of our backpackers told me today that my vacuuming job was "the most meticulous" one he'd ever seen. hee. Johannes came up to me multiple times while I was cleaning to tell me, "You don't have to do that" or "Wow, you were born to vacuum, you do it the proper way" or other tangential comments. While I tried to not put much effort into it, I couldn't resist. I mean, if you're going to spend the time vacuuming, you might as well ACTUALLY clean the floor. Dammit. I already sound like my mother.

Also, I lied in my previous post. I am still no good at cooking. I somehow fucked up stir-fry veggies with rice. I overcooked the rice with too much water and undercooked the veggies. Undercooked veggies don't really matter but the liquidy overcooked rice sucked. Good grief. Better luck next time sport.

Chris and Emma left today for the hike. Not sure I have really any comment. Sad to see them go? Relieved? Something else in between? I really don't know. Too tired to care? Maybe. We'll see what develops. I think we had a good time together and I think it was time to part ways again, so perhaps there is little I feel needs to be said, either here or to myself.

I want to tackle a huge great mosaic project while I'm here. But I'm not sure I'm good enough to and I don't know where I'd find the materials or time or energy or inspiration. Although, I did start today with my new habit (hopefully) of getting up and writing at least a page in my "journal" before starting the day. This is to get in the habit of writing shit down. We'll see if it lasts, how quality it is and if ever it might be possible for me to stop writing newsy flat no story line blog posts and actually coalesce random notes into some sort of body of work. Although, everywhere I turn with my inspiration for writing, scholarly or otherwise, I'm just confronted with how little I know, how underprepared I am, how high my standards are from what I think I can achieve at this point. So ugh. But really, I would just like it to gather enough steam so that it could become a project. Like, it's not even in the 'work in progress' stage yet. But we'll see. First things first, I need some more sleep. I want to go running tomorrow as well. I am getting fat and it makes me upset and think about getting older. Which I'm not old yet and so I don't want to get fat. Erg. morrrrrtality. smile.

I like looking at the ocean, and its funny because. i know, that the ocean is this gigantic system of ecosystems and tons of wildlife, creation, dynamic, exciting and more than anything alive. And yet, all we see is this flat never-ending (strangely linear natural horizon) and boundless emptiness. So much emptiness. Where the most substantial sight is a white fluffy cloud. there one minute and gone the next. Sometimes I feel I could be sucked out over the surface of the water way way out and just dissolve without a trace. Sucked into nothingness. Aren't oceans weird? Well, they are. This land rises out randomly out of all this nothingness and then we live on it. That's weird. I am excited to go to the beach tomorrow alone. The beach is like deserted and lonesome and sort of windy and just really perfect. The water is also warm. It's not a beach full of hot people, which is ok, hopefully I'll get to those beaches later.

I guess that was my impression for the day. The ocean. Although I've had it growing, or at least there for a few days now. The West Coast of New Zealand, does it to me. I'm on my own again. That sort of just occurred to me. i am glad i think. and yet. I miss home. I am having more and more thoughts about this traveling thing being over. I think that's a good sign. It means I'll be ready to go home. Although, I have to be so careful about going home. I know it will be full of shit to figure out and things won't be fantastic magical. It'll be home, with all of home's problems. And when I think about that, I don't feel nearly as ready to go back. I deal with the problems of being alone and traveling much easier. i don't know what I want, but I know I want. How's that for philosophy. People always have some sort of reaction to my studies of philosophy and really can no longer explain myself. I have no idea what happened. I just sort of brain-farted on pretty much everything. kind of scary. Dave Eggers wrote an essay or maybe it was a whole book entitled "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius". That is what I want to write. But I need to know so much more I think. But sometimes I think maybe I don't. Sometimes I think that somehow the way I see things and respond to them already speaks to our day and age. That I've subconsciously already absorbed those things that I would identify as important to include somehow in an artistic creation. Perhaps it just comes naturally? I guess, I always have a hard time getting a good working draft of anything out. I want to go from blank page to masterpiece in one step and really, that's just not reasonable. but so? I want my brain to vomit out a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. for what purpose? Vanity perhaps, or to feel a true satisfaction that doesn't come necessarily from one's own overcoming of adversity. There's something to be said for that you know, there are a lot of things that are deeply satisfying that don't require your magnanimous effort at all. And, well, I like that kind of satisfaction.

i do want a traveling companion. I can admit that at least. but that's only because I don't have one. (i just got rid of two, sheesh) because I know if I had one, I'd probably be upset at them. Great. I know I've said it before, but I really like the title of this blog. I feel its true in a lot of ways. True? Hmm, I mean captures me a lot.

Oh, by the way, the host guy here, let me know that he's read a book written by a guy who goes over to Ireland and tries to build his own sustainable house. sigh. there goes my niche. Son of a bitch. is there place in this world for someone like me? hahahahaha. bleagh.

I am going to try to instigate a weekly read aloud. We have planned fun nights pretty much every other night here at the hostel. And well, I think one of the off nights each week we should change into a read aloud. Mainly, because I like reading aloud. And some people have told me they enjoy listening. So I think it'd be a fun deal. maybe we could all drink a lot of wine, then it wouldn't matter it'd be good either way. Ok well is that enough for tonight? it's late and I want to go to bed. My six pack is going away and I'm pissed about it. just so you all know i guess. and if you don't have a six pack, you need to work on your abs. I suggest starting with 10 exercises that you perform for 45 seconds each. Once you are not worthless, you can move up to a minute each. That is my healthy hint for the day.

Happy Epiphany you Catholics.

I have Internet! and free Time! And how!

So, I am at a kickass artistic retreat place. Karamea, New Zealand, a tiny remote town on the northern West Coast, definitely off the beaten track (its 100km plus out of the way from ANY thoroughfare or highway). It's not "on the way" to anything, it's the dead end stop of a long long road. Sweeet.

And here I am. At a little artistic haven. It's a backpackers (so not so much any farm work (although they have a large garden)) the place runs on solar and rainwater, has an art gallery, a radio station (that I am allowed to have a show on (sweet!)) and artistic space for all the guests. They have an artist in residence from California (good on ya) and pretty much really awesome cool down to Earth people. The one snag is, no free food. I have to pay and cook my own meals. Bummmmer. But I've been looking for an opportunity to learn more cooking and I'm not going to lie, I'm getting pretty good.

Chris and Emma head out of the backpackers (they are staying as guests and me as an employee (Chris has threatened to take a dump on his bed, knowing I'll have to clean it up)) tomorrow morning for the Heaphy Track then the Abel Tasman track followed by a quick jaunt to Christchurch before they fly on to Bali. So this is basically the end. I'll be on my own again starting tomorrow morning.

It's pretty humid and hot here and I've got that awful humid-Sean battle raging in my skull whose effects are felt throughout my whole body. I feel awful lethargic, watch the world from the tank of jam my head is currently submerged in. I am not a fan of humidity. It could be because I'm really tired and haven't eaten very much as well. Whatever.

Since I last wrote tons has happened (duh). We took shuttles from the Queenstown area up the West Coast to Punakaiki and the people I very first met in New Zealand. Had a nice quiet New Year's with each other and a bonfire and a bottle of wine. We all had to struggle to stay awake for midnight and went to bed soon thereafter. We did a fantastic day hike (for free) and left Punakaiki for Westport just up the coast. We got picked up by these really fun and awesome people in a van going up to Nelson for a Bachelor party. They dropped us off in Westport and had a beer or two and some pizza with us and then we all went to the beach together and frolicked. It was sad to say goodbye to them even after only a couple hours. They were tons of fun, gave us a lovely little gift and continued on their way. We checked into a holiday park (aka a field in which we could camp right by the beach) and stayed there two nights. Both nights we had fantastic beach bonfires built by yours truly with some help from Chris. The first night we ran around under the full panoply of the heavens, infinite ocean blackness, freed from silly clothing with sticks on fire! It was great. Emma was the one who introduced us to fire dancing. It was pretty high quality and really liberating to say the least. Most people would think we were on drugs. which we weren't. Not even alcohol. Well, Emma might've been on allergy medicine, but she was pretty tame.

I had to sleep wrapped up in their bivouac shelter because their tent is WAY too small for even two people. Which was fine until it rained the second night. It also was quite a hard ground since I have no sleeping pad. So I may have not gotten much sleep the past two nights (hmmm, lethargy....). But I think that pretty much catches you all up.

I was picked up by a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses from Westport to Karamea, which to be fair, I probably would not have found out except that ahhh, that inevitable "What did you study in Uni?" question. Well Religious Studies blasted to pieces the floodgates and I left with several pamphlets with exciting titles like, "What Jehovah Witnesses Believe." and "What hope for dead loved ones?" Prettttty high quality. Again. Chris was disappointed that I did try to incite a riot. That would be dumb. Duh. And plus, they bought me ice cream. hee.

And now, here I am, sitting in this kick ass huge room all to myself, with art work literally dripping from the walls. Funky sofas and chairs, large wooden tables, flowers, and wonderfulness. Sigh. Hippie hippie hippie hippie. Hee. I will have to come up with some project to contribute to the multitude. All the walls of the place are covered in messages from WWOOFers and guests. All over the world. It's fantastic. and the guest rooms are actually quite posh. It's a pretty neato-burrito place.

We made Mexican food the other night and THANK THE LORD. I have been missing quality Mexican food like whoa (in the parlance of our times).

I am hoping that this place will allow me to explore more of my recent urges to really get into writing. Chris has also gotten excited about the idea of me writing, which oddly enough, has actually spurred my interest forward as well. I made several notes in Ireland, and continue to every now and then whilst I'm here. Hopefully, perhaps, something may come of things or begin to take shape into a project while I'm here. I would indeed like to return home and try to put together some body of work. But that'll be tough with a job etc. I'm so darned picky and particular. About my writing that is.

That could be it for now. I don't feel the need to do a big long post considering they'll be pretty regular for the next 2 weeks or so now. Plus, the two Globetrotters are about to set off and that'll provoke more reflection for more interesting posts. What should my radio show be called? Sounds of Shan? that's all I got... Cheers.