-

I live between a theatre room and a chicken coop. there’s really no other way of describing it.

-

4 days ago, I was stabbing my way through the streets of Saigon on a motorbike. and now I’m here, between a theatre room and a chicken coop. in Bend, Oregon.

jet-lag takes great pride in smacking me. what was it Spalding Gray said?  ’I refer to jet lag as ‘jet-psychosis’ — there’s an old saying that the spirit cannot move faster than a camel.’ and I’m feelin’ it, lemme tell you. if I hadn’t had torn down all the mirrors one night in a friend’s apartment and then stood in front of them whilst pissing myself asking ‘what is the matter with you?’, I’d be tempted to drop an Ambien and wake up refreshed – but does anyone feel bad for me?

you shouldn’t, as I’ve only described a small part of the new chapter.

I’m with two of my best friends - no, hang on, I use ‘best friend’ term a lot and, while I mean it when I say it, the two people I’m living with are so far beyond that – they’re family. so I’m living with two extended members of my family in the most ridiculous house I’ve ever set foot in – my room’s location should be an indicator of that. walk out past the theatre room and there’s a fully-stocked bar. to the left is an old arcade game that plays all the old arcade games. and then there’s a breakfast nook where I’m sitting as we speak. behind me is a view that I’m actually holding off on photographing until it’s absolutely clear, just so you can understand the ridiculousness of it.

okay, no – I at least have to show you what it looks like from the balcony at 7 in the morning.

so yes, I left Ho Chi Minh. it was fine and I was making money and 6 months there would have made me more than enough for the big sailing trip next year, but one night, Josie and I had a wonderful grown-up talk about her not really liking it there and, while we were fine – more than fine, actually, we were really good – there’s no substitute for happiness in the place where you are personally and I cherish finally being of the mental maturity to not take something like that personally. she’s doing a great job of documenting her own journey and I highly suggest you delve into it a little.

she left for a beach and I left for some cold mountain air. the book is the priority as it’s going to pay for my little trip – more on that in a bit as well.

but if we’re going to talk book, then I should mention something that’s been a huge catalyst for my constant revisions of this little memoir I’m penning. see, ever since I was given a nephew, I’ve started realizing who, and what, is important… and it’s him. and while Uncle Aric might have been able to sell 1000 more copies of the book if he left in the original amount of drugs and sex, 1000 copies is nothing when you consider his parents might [rightfully so] not want him to read it. so it’s being cleaned up and I can’t wait – mom and dad will be happy with that. as will some of you.

does this make any sense, this entry? it kind of does to me, but I’m also walking under water right now, what with living in the mountains, being surrounded by people I love, and people who love me, and mircobrews that would make even a non-drinker weep.

so yeah, I’m all over the place.

but the more I write about it, the less I think it’s jet lag.

in fact, I’m sure it’s not jet lag.

my body is just experiencing another vicious case of fortune.