aric with an a

I didn’t speak to a soul today.

the only time my voice worked was when Def Leppard came on during shuffle.

it was fantastic - both were fantastic.

nothing like a random iPod program to justify 80’s angst.

love does bite, well said.

it’s like being a grown-up here,

and that’s nice.

’cause I don’t have the things grown-ups have.

I wake up and have some yoga,

then practice some tea with milk.

walk down to the beach and wake up,

that’s quite nice, even though I’m not a beach person.

it’s a rocky beach - thus the nickname of ’shipwreck cove’

and sister, when the water pulls those little things back into the ocean,

it’s like one person starts wildly applauding,

and then everyone joins in.

I like it very much.

and then I work - dirty building work.

I like that very much too.

painting rooms has always been a joy for me,

3 hours and a transformation - must be nice.

but I’m also a spackling fool.

no lie.

if you have pizza and some good microbrews, I’ll come and do yours.

it feels good to be good at something manly.

and I’m so clean! I think I get this from Tim.

you’d most certainly be impressed by my workstation.

I even vacuumed the tiny bits of wallpaper I’ve pulled off,

even though I’m not done and will start back in the morning.

very, very tidy - well done, Mom.

and now I’m going to make some dinner,

a few beers,

and a DVD.

it might be boring to you, but normalcy,

hot-water,

and free wifi aren’t things I’m used to.

being grown-up is like a vacation for me,

the opposite of most, I suppose.

but to know that this is my bed,

my mug,

and my window for a month,

makes me quite relaxed.

and believe it or not,

I need it.

that’s a big number, 10,666.

we can all agree on that.

that’s how many people dropped by yesterday.

am I bragging?

no, I have nothing to brag about.

I’m writing,

because it’s the cheapest thing I can do.

ten-thousand people and change.

why?

I’m guessing because despondency sells.

you’re either from the credit card company,

another stalker,

my Mother,

or perhaps, you’re wondering how this will work out.

you can stop reading now, if you want.

I’m rambling.

trying to think something or hear something,

that gives me a bit of direction.

I don’t want your money,

you bought my photos and for that, I thank you.

you might offer up kind words,

some work - some don’t.

I hate cliches, they’re a dime-a-dozen.

but you want to see how this turns out,

this boy, in Cairo, wanting to get to the real Africa,

but having Libya on one side, and Sudan on the other.

no overlands for me, I’m afraid.

the lady at the embassy told me the same.

what will happen?

I turned to my favorite Dr. Seuss book today,

childlishly stumbling for answers between the illustrations.

and it gave me a chuckle,

but nothing much else.

oh! the places I’m trying to go.

I’m trying, Dr., I am.

sitting here, hitting ‘refresh’,

as if it’s up to me when my emails come.

waiting and waiting, like Martin Sheen,

without the bathroom,

it’s cheaper that way, you see.

dear Mom, dear Dad - funny story…

it’ll have to begin,

perhaps misspelling a few words to remind them my college education cost nothing.

I’d sell you this computer,

but the ‘I’ key is faded.

the airline I would take to over there,

had a plane crash a few days ago - could I ask for a discount?

it’s a great idea! I tell myself,

and would tell them.

and, whoever will listen.

listen to my great idea.

now, feed me.

in one week, this post will make me laugh.

so laugh now, if you like.

I want you to.

I want to too.

and I’d like to be doing something,

besides coming back here.

I can’t even be in a good mood about the pyramids.

poop.

as crass as this is to say,

picture my setting right now.

what does that look like, to you?

here’s why I said that:

not a week goes by that someone emails me and says

‘be honest, what do you really do?’

as if I secretly have a trust fund,

and simply like creating the occasional mini-drama.

can I be honest?

I’m sitting in a hotel room.

just ate a fantastic chicken sandwich that I hope was cheap,

so I can order it again tomorrow.

I also hope it’s warmer tomorrow,

so I can go back to my little alley.

there’s a few people who are interested in my new travel-charity project,

big people.

in big businesses,

big businesses which can’t just say ‘go for it!’ and turn me loose.

and so I wait.

I wait here in Cairo,

having faith that what will be will be.

cautiously tallying the $290 I have left.

no credit cards,

no rich parents,

no savings.

$290.

I sold my photos, and you bought them

it got me to Egypt and that was the plan.

and I’m here.

crisis averted, as it always is.

but still.

it’s just enough to fly to Ethiopia,

but not enough to eat once I’m there.

‘do you have any missionary friends in Addis Ababa?’ in an email to my Dad.

33 and asking for help from his parents.

‘teach English in Cairo’ I entered in the box,

realizing I have no dress clothes anyway.

so, sure - the photos come up and some people click the ‘like’ button,

and I can tell a decent story thanks to having a bloodline of storytellers and carnies.

but please don’t find this glamorous.

nor think me brave.

or imagine me exploring the hidden walkways of this old town,

’cause it was cold outside today.

I picked out the crap parts of the tour and obsessed about them,

as that’s $20 I could have used elsewhere.

so here I sit, and here I write,

’cause I wouldn’t burden anyone with this in a normal conversation.

but know that once you take away the pictures,

and these little entries,

what you have is a grown boy.

who’s sitting in this little cheap hotel room,

scared.

and how glamorous is that?

walking around obsessing and worrying,

holding onto whatever cliche enters my head.

‘it always works out!’

‘you’ll end up exactly where you’re supposed to be’

‘look at the big picture.’

and so on.

so sure, on the cab ride home, I told myself that if things fall through,

I’m going to do it anyway.

you read that line and maybe you thought ‘atta boy!’

but please don’t.

it was said in my head a lot softer than this type resonates.

scared, scared boy.

and this is what it’s all about, I suppose.

in a week’s time I’ll have forgotten this and wonder if I should delete this childish admittance.

but for now, right now…

you get the picture.

okay, so.

here’s the big idea.

I wanted to wait until I had a bit more time to talk it over with some folks,

but this is the last night I’ll be at Ryan’s - with his free wifi and beers.

a dangerous combination, usually, but hey.

I made enough, thanks to people like you, to get to Africa.

but I can’t just do a few pyramids and say ‘yep - been to Africa.’

I want to experience it in a way that only being poor could.

tourism, it’s all be tourism - just longer than most, I think.

I want an adventure.

so here it is:

cairo to capetown…with no money.

[the only cash I'll keep will be for internet access, as this depends on it - $15 a week]

no money.

overland.

quick - look at a map.

that’s a long way down.

and into some dicey areas.

Sudan? dangerous in places, yes.

even Brother Scott had a few words of warning for me about Sudan - and he’s the bravest cat I know.

so, a week or so ago, I wrote it off and was just going to try and find a few NGO’s to work with.

but it kept at me, this little thought.

and then there was this fantastic lady I shared a cab with who just so happened to have lived/worked in Sudan.

so I took that as a sign.

and I finally spent money I don’t have on the domain.

fuck me, I’m off topic and haven’t even explained it.

sorry.

no money, just asking, in advance, for friends-of-friends

or charities you might know

who’d let me show up, do a bit of work, or help get their message out

in exchange for a bite to eat, a blanket and a ride into the next town.

I might have to hitchhike.

I might have to have a few pages of phrases translated each place I go.

I might, as a semi-healthy white guy, get some funny looks when it’s me begging for food,

but I’m living proof to the kindness of strangers.

I’m living proof on how Facebook/Twitter helps you meet people.

and I’m living proof you need not be educated, wealthy, nor informed to travel.

this is the project I spoke with Nat Geo a few times about - still don’t think they’ll legally be able to do it.

and that’s okay, it was the confidence I needed to get me to the next step.

so - I’ve bought the site, and admitted it publicly.

and in a few weeks, I’m going to try and do it.

but will, once again, need your help.

…

we’ll start with the first three countries - who do you know in either Egypt, Sudan or Ethiopia who’d be willing to help?

what am I not thinking of?

what should I prepare in advance for?

and if you don’t think it can be done, tell me why.

a funny thing happened outside,

while I was having a cigarette in the cold East Jerusalem rain.

my 2010 being one of adventure,

I asked for this.

but also one of worry less about bucks, nuggets and pennies from heaven.

there’s always the worry,

no matter who temporarily vacates,

of having enough once you’re there.

‘I’d like to do this.’

‘I’d like to see that.’

but the things I like to do most,

are

travel and take pictures,

write

and drink beer with my friends and family.

the photos are free to take - we’ve even seen them help me along my way.

writing is free, or would be if I wasn’t so obsessed with having a Moleskine.

and while I’m very, very lucky to have good people in my life all over,

the majority of those close always end up being far away from my guidebook map.

which means there’s only my gallivanting left.

[or is it 'galavanting'? I don't know, really.]

the things I have to pay to see rarely end up being worth having to pay to see,

so, at the end of it all, I like showing up.

she once told me that’s what I was best at.

meaning I feel, I hope, I think,

that it’s becoming more-and-more a case of

‘do I have enough to get there?’

as opposed to the aforementioned.

[I think that's my favorite word, 'aforementioned' or 'cake', one of those]

so, will I have enough to get to Africa?

yes.

and something tells me, perhaps the past 10 years or so,

that the rest, the tomorrows

seem to take care of themselves.

and that’s exciting.

I’m excited.

because, well…

tomorrows have been happening for a long, long time.

so, 4 days ago, I posted the ‘fire sale for Africa’ thingy.

and am 64% of the way there.

that not only makes me happy,

but it makes me real happy.

people, some of whom I don’t even know,

have emailed and bought a few.

if you’re new to my newest plead for money that’s not mine,

here’s the deal.

well, it’s here, actually.

or a few posts below.

but any photo of mine,

mailed anywhere in the world.

$10 for a 5X7.

$20 for an 8X11.

that’s it.

good stuff!

I’m filthy.

seriously.

and I stink.

’cause somewhere between here and the Med I lost my deodorant.

and I just haven’t picked any up.

I smell and I’m dirty.

from the photo, you might think that was one day’s doing.

it’s not.

I haven’t washed those over-sized sweats since I’ve started traveling.

and I’ve worn them everyday.

yes - what you’re thinking right now, ew.

ew is right.

but I got to the point where I stink and I’m dirty and I don’t mind it.

see, it rained yesterday.

and everyone was tip-toe tip-toeing over the puddles.

tip-toe tip-toe.

I just walked through.

I’m already dirty.

and I live in a dirty little motel room.

I stink and it stinks.

but I don’t mind.

you get to a point where you don’t care about what you look like.

and I’m at that point.

wait - does that sound like I’m depressed?

I’m not.

it’s liberating.

the homeless man who throws his feces at pigeons and preaches to pencils,

he’s free.

if his brown belt doesn’t match his black shoes, he’s okay with that.

and I’m okay with that.

I. am. here. to. see. some. shit.

that’s it. that’s all.

but I should probably shower.

so, funny story.

I decided to go to Ethiopia overland [save for flying over Sudan] from Istanbul.

but then I stayed too long in Turkey,

and ran out of money.

so now, I have to cross over 5 countries to make it to there.

and I’m out of money.

did I mention that?

ok.

so, am going to have to sell a bunch of my photos.

for pretty cheap.

$10 for a 5X7 or $20 for an 8X10.

any photo of mine you want.

you choose, tell me, paypal me* and I mail to you.

[delivered] anywhere in the world.

there’ll all up here.

but tried to narrow it down for ya.

-

the best of ‘09

the best of ‘08 [most popular]

the best before ‘08

-

or maybe, you want to do it by countries?

ok.

here are some of the most popular:

-

india

turkey

[the mojave]

myanmar

berlin part II

indonesia

laos

philippines

n.y.c part II

-

but, again - any photo is up for order.

thanks.

I’d sure like to make it to Africa.

-

*email me at aric.s.queen@gmail.com for details

I woke up to find out I had less money left than I thought.

and you’d think that would have bothered me.

but it didn’t.

I’d been putting off logging on to my account for some days now,

cause I didn’t want to see.

I had a number, a considerably low number, in my head

so I wouldn’t be surprised.

but it was even lower than that.

you’d think that would have worried me,

but it did not.

-

the exchange was hilarious - to me, to him, to everyone in the shop.

I was only a few hours away from Syria,

a few more from Iraq,

and a few more from Armenia.

they didn’t get a lot of Okies here.

I pointed and he pointed to the same item.

my face and arms and shoulders asked ‘what is it?’

he tried in his own language, but I understood nothing.

he asked the 7 or 8 people in the shop,

but they didn’t know how to explain either.

it wasn’t what it was, it was what was inside I was wondering.

there were many, so many and I was hungry.

so hungry, I didn’t want to ruin it with something I didn’t enjoy,

like, raisins, for instance.

his index finger went up, ‘one minute’ I suppose he was saying

the person on the other line of his phone spoke,

and he repeated:

‘cheese!’ with such vigor, you’d have thought it was a game show finale.

they laughed, I laughed, he laughed and I took the ‘cheese!’.

I would have even if I didn’t eat cheese.

-

maybe it was because I now knew for sure that I was going to have to hustle

sell some photos, perhaps.

find out if Egypt is needing English teachers,

even though I really didn’t want to do that.

and even worse, the project I was hoping to get

is put on hold. indefinitely.

which means no money coming in.

you’d have thought that would have stressed me out,

but it didn’t.

-

he was coming down the tiny lane

of the tiny bazaar

it’s not like the bazaar in your mind

the real one’s have shoes and mops and stuff.

there were lots of oranges

lots of pomegranates

and a few bananas

I’d like a banana,

and took one off of the top.

‘lira?’ I asked him, as ‘how much is this?’ had proven to be too hard.

his hand waved back-and-forth in front of his face.

‘no lira’ he said, smiling.

‘no lira?’ I asked back.

he bowed his head and touched his heart and pushed his cart of fruit down the alleyway.

-

I was going to have to figure out a way down to Africa

and then, for some reason, things felt like they’d work themselves out.

I wasn’t going to not go to Africa.

what asshole would pass on that?

it was just going to get interesting,

and adventure,

from here, down to Africa.

-

‘he is a terrorist!’ the bus-man laughed, pointing that statement to the van-man

the van-man wanted my business,

but I went with the bus-man.

for no real reason than I just like the buses here.

the van-man said something to the bus man and drew a circle with his foot.

it could have been a cultural thing, it could have been a map of the route taken

but another man [we'll call him soup-man - because his shop offered soup] drew another circle

yes, it was a cultural thing.

bus-man handed me my ticket and van-man walked away laughing,

I suppose they were friends after all.

-

so, not a lot left in the bank

and I have 5 countries to go through

to get to Ethiopia

and if I were to take a step back

it’d probably freak me out a little bit,

but on a morning like today’s

I’m just gonna be happy

I’m gonna enjoy the ‘how the fuck did you get here?’ looks I’ve been getting

if there’s laughing, I’m gonna join in.

I’ll eat my free banana

and not try to understand it all.

it ain’t up to me, really.

and what a relief that is.

I didn’t have it in my small little budget for a car.

but we went ahead and did it anyway.

I justified it with the cost of taxis

and the cost of my time

but to be completely honest, it was a stretch to even offset a little.

but we did it anyway - I think I mentioned that.

did I mention gas here can run $12 a gallon?

well it can.

so it went from being way out of my budget,

to wayyyyyyy out of my budget.

but we did it anyway - I’m sure I mentioned that.

it was fun, as driving a car in a foreign country always is.

but it was expensive.

and I kept thinking about that.

until the sun set over the Greek islands next to our Turkish road.

and I decided to pull over to have a smoke and take it in

[both the sunset and the cigarette.]

and something about that

made me stop mentioning

and stop thinking

about how far out of my budget it was.