Stories

The language idea is not a bad one, although feels less like the all-encompassing focus for the writing efforts, and more like a key theme that can be woven into the narrative along with other items. 

The newest inspiration is a fall back to some old thoughts.  The idea of a memoir-type recounting of past trips/visits in the form of a short story series.  It could form a sort of travelogue/guidebook/literary tale that checks a lot of boxes.  Different chapters with different place names, based on true stories but interwoven in unique and surprising ways to form a cohesive whole.  Some obvious and some unknown.  The kind of book that even if it never sells will be a worthy remembrance of the most formative travel.

Some early contenders - Havana, Antarctica, Great Wall, Luxor, Bunol, Kashi, Zanzibar, Cappadocia...  Starting to see an alphabetical theme emerging here.  Assuming 26 chapters is not too much, that might fit in with the whole language theme.  Will have a go tonight at setting out the parameters for a full list.  If you do it write / If you do it right, it might just work.

Language

Duane and the fox, offering up some post-Trump solace, and more, ideas.  History is a story, always about reclaiming progress that has been attained and pushing it that bit further.  So much struggle and yet to remain standing, proud.  Passing on hard-fought knowledge in ever-changing ways.  The loon giving over permission to enter its waters, in song.  There is creative depth there, worth preserving.  Far more than the simplistic "Tourism in a virtual age" banter.  Then the Ethiopian cabbie 16 years out from Addis with his 3 kids to seal it.  Seal the theme.  Go deeper in search of the structure.

We are hitting the skies.  A productive day.  Elena and lost nephew lashing out as the bookend to the early Sunday departure.  Not many hours and still much to be done this work week.  But I leave the mountains imagining a spring return that will be as rejuvenating as the Carrib sea (which, to be clear, should also be visited).  Focus on words and stories.  Lost words and lost stories.  Saved from memory for posterity.  As this midnight moment is here.  Now.  Then.  Now.

Motivation and the Lack Thereof

Complacency breeds despair, breeds cynicism.  You frequently return to this feeling - I'm tired of this.  The feeling, again, I'm trapped, under the weight of things, events.  The flight escapes distracting, but no longer working as they were wont to do in the past.  Hiding out in hotel rooms.  Behind music.  In echo chambers of your choosing.  Avoiding work for days and weeks now on end.  Dreams of remote ocean outposts that would probably drive you further into misery.  Nothing to be done.

A bleak outlook, and yet the power to choose remains.  The goal of the half, and then Medoc to move you out of bed.  Bali disconnection, and the search for inspiration among the Kiwis.  A last public celebration of 1976.  Some Caribbean air.  A first glimpse of the Europa.  A summer eclipse.  A Fall classic, ballpark trip or otherwise.  All of that for 2017.  And then, then, you can begin.

Options are to leave it all behind in Jan 2018, or (more likely) sometime in 2019.  The latter still leaves so many months of treading water, of spinning in place.  What about targeting the writing program for summer 2018 as the stop gap?  Or even 2017, could that be swung?  Surely, if you have but the writing in place... A new community and new dream to tie up your malaise and direct it toward a grander purpose.

Write up the Philly trip.  Write up some other adventures over the holidays as you take breaks from the training.  Putting this off further seems counterproductive.  Seems a delay in getting started.

Here we witness the therapeutic quality of writing and the organic evolution of a dormant idea taking shape.  The G. Coop event at month's end a chance to ask for the letter in support.  This Spring and Summer to focus, and the Antarctica trip to provide further inspiration, tied as it must be into the overall theme of the project.

Let me go check some logistics and return...

So.  February 15 deadline.  Two letters.  Max 25 pages.  Transcripts.  Personal statement.  Project idea.  2 week August 2017 residency in Halifax.  ~$6000 tuition per semester.  1 week TO (2018) residency in January.  No reason why that cannot be made to work with the plans.

Pourquoi pas?  And like that, in the process of 2 posts, less than one week after this devastating election, you have a physical and intellectual path forward into the new year.  Maybe I should change the title of the post now?  Ha.  I do feel an instinctive joy, that this provides the chance at a near-term sense of purpose right up your proverbial alley.  "Graduation" right around the age of 40 as well, which could come just around the right time.

Ok - room 324 at Aloft.  Thanks.  Let me go crank out this presentation to DEC, finish some trade and hydro work, and clear your head for the coming salvos.  The plans of the last few days are a long time coming, which is why they feel right, but the key is in the execution.  Look not back in vain.

A New (Old) Plan

Well, that sucked.  Not the trip down, not Philly, not the rally, not the Megabus, not the Rioja, not the Guinness, not Times Square, not Lady Liberty.  Just the result.  A testing time for America.

And, perhaps, a further chance for reflection on what's next.  Plans for the next 18 months or so are relatively set.  Lots to look forward to, no question.  But 40 looms on the horizon.  And there is so much still to see and to do.

I need to get in shape.  For real this time.  I think the goal of a marathon is the way to do it.  That's job #1.  Next is to save some money over the course of the next two years.  Hope the CDN dollar makes a move back in the right direction.  Put plans in motion for a low residency break by starting to write.  Really starting.  Whether Kings or elsewhere.  Whether 2017 or beyond.

Use the lowly month of November.  25 days between the 15th and Vegas.  Make them dry, with exercise, and healthy cooking.  The usual manifesto, but this time - this time! - make it so.  Prove to yourself you can do it.  The half in Halifax in May seems a good one to target.  Get up to a reasonable standard then join a running room?  (Remember the triathlon commitment to Stilwell in Cambodia?  Ha.  This time, actually do it.)

More later.  If you can make 2017 the year of the will to move, then "we're off and running", as this grumpy bus driver just said pulling out of Amherst.  So happy to have got up this morning when you could have taken the later bus.  All you have to do is get up.  Start.  Now I'm ready to.  Clear the mind of the recent disappointments.  And cross another long-term goal off the bucket list.  Because if you can do the half in May, then a full in the fall somewhere (Medoc!) is in the cards.

Yes, Medoc is surely the one for you.  So.  May 21 and September 9 are the dates.  Don't let me down.

Fake Horse Races

4 days out.  Shortly after making the call to hit up Philly, Hillary's team decide to close out the campaign there with POTUS.  How perfect.

Need to lock in the Independence Hall visit.  That, Rocky steps, Liberty Bell, and a few church polling stations and one whiz wit will be a great 20h all told.

Missed flight tonight, but borne out of the paralysis - failure to get work done amidst the obsessing over Twitter.  Now we have some hours to get ahead of the game before the flight.  A bit of a shame as you might make it less of a tight squeeze, but this way I like that you can leave with no mind to anything but the democracy itinerary.

A note on the title.  The comment today about the betting on the made up announcing, a cool concept bettered only by the follow-up that "If you don't do stuff like that life would be boring as shit."  Or "You have to do stuff like that otherwise life..."  So much happens and is said and then is gone.  No matter.  And no wonder the impulse to be outside the moment with the smart phone.

Messaging Homi today also led to the Jehovah shock.  Of all the people to see the light?  Still can't quite believe.  Drinks with that guy in 2017 definitely in order.  We shall see.  Nevada had a good showing tonight.  Big Clark Turnout wrestling his way to Hispanic fortune.  Need him to carry the day, so let's see it.

Mother of Exiles

Just over a week since the UK return.  Merriment in London and Eire, although surprising the level of disappointment in the Jays loss.  Mostly because it cancelled out the World Series possibilities for the second straight year.  The saving grace may be that it left room in the bank account to contemplate a last minute election ploy - to a new city and an old one.

Philly has long been on the list of places to pass through, and what better night to make the trek up the famous Balboa steps than the eve of this never-ending election?  And what better place to spend the day after (win or lose) than atop the pedestal of Emma Lazarus' New Colossus?  A true classic to add to the annals of your 60 hour holidays.

You might as well, since no work is getting done here.  Painful weekend of lying about, with remains of the donair from last week still unmoved from the bedroom, the laundry from the backpack left undone.  Instead, the contant checking in to Twitter for insta-updates on this election that seemed safe from the demagogue until the FBI decided to get involved.  Now the panic meter is ratcheting up.

What shalt thou expect, to be depender on a thing that leans.  O, for a horse with wings.  His eyes in flood with laughter.  Till he had melted from the smallness of a gnat to air.  Some marvelous lines to be remembered from the "reclaimed" Imogen in the Globe's last performance of the season.  And more besides. 

For now I must off to another Energy Law lecture.  Remind me to return to the cause of delight this morning, in learning that the Renoir post-card from 2013 has been found.  Back when you were en route to Varanasi and the Taj, having just secured the hearing dates in the arbitration from being delayed while GM was down in Florida.  Happy days, looking back.  Motivation for a return to Paris in 2017?  Perhaps.  How wonderfully magic if there were more to come from this serendipitous Clara...