aric with an a

Africa kicked my bottom.

no way around it.

I went with an idea, a good idea,

but no money.

no visas.

and not understanding how things work.

it wasn’t SE Asia.

and I wasn’t prepared.

that’s all it is.

it scared me, but to not have been shaken would be strange.

but I still tasted African soil.

which is what I wanted.

I wasn’t ready.

I most certainly wasn’t ready.

so, with barely enough to afford the airport taxi,

the bank of parents were called - even though they don’t have any money.

33 and calls his parents.

at 33, my Mother was taking care of a 9 year-old me,

at 33 my Father was providing for a family of 4.

something to think about.

dinner in Addis, breakfast in Cairo, lunch in London.

it sounds great, no?

but I was ready for something familiar.

2-3 months I can do - haven’t I already said that?

Nat Geo - here’s where I stand with them,

and here’s how it went.

they had an idea, much like mine.

we traded emails and calls,

they ’shut down’ during the blizzard in D.C.

said we’d reconvene as soon as they were back to the office.

and that was it.

I’m not upset, it was a compliment to be called.

but I’m disappointed, as they know what a call like that does to someone.

and so, the rainy south of England.

I’ll stay here for a month or so,

make a few pennies to get back Stateside.

and then…

oh, f- it.

I’m done planning.

tea - that’s as far as I’ll scope.

a nice cuppa tea.

I love a good adventure.

granted, 2008 was more of one,

but 2009 had a lot happening as well.

it started on a bus in Austin on Jan. 01 - I think someone broke the iPod player.

and then we slowly made our way down to The Keys - Tim a bit more slowly than the rest of us.

I took a month off and did Berlin with Alonso and Switzerland for Carnival.

then over to Austin for SXSW.

and back on the bus.

met Otis Redding’s son and daughter in Georgia.

then back to Oklahoma to watch my brother marry the girl he loved and still loves.

back on the bus and down through the southwest.

finally arriving in one of the best places in the U.S. - Bend, OR. [no photos or stories as I'm supposed to be keeping that town a secret]

got flown to Hawaii by the state’s tourism agency

and then back to Bend.

I loved it, sure, but there was no work to be had,

so I made the easy decision to move to Norway to work on a farm. [no photos and stories because I didn't actually make it there]

stopped in NYC and met a girl.

who then traveled with me in the U.K.

we tried to sail to France, but I got us lost.

and then moved back with her to Los Angeles.

back to Hawaii for another gig.

then back to L.A.

that ended up not working out, so I headed back home,

then to the East Coast.

then the U.K.

then Berlin.

and now find myself drinking black tea with no milk in an Istanbul hotel room.

…so, yeah. thanks, 2009 - 2010, I do have a few thoughts though.

with each time

I say goodbye,

it’s one more day,

one more hour,

one more time,

that I will see them less.

and sadness comes from not missing

but that soon,

someday,

a day up to someone other than me

missing is all I’ll be able to do

and I’ll wish

I would have realized

that each of us

have a day

a day not up to us,

or them,

but to someone else

someone who reminds me to tell them,

and not wait

one more day

because days are all we have

they’re all we have

and today is one less.

I need all my days

said Otis.

and I agree.

and I agree.

but I also need all of theirs.

this was, according to my parents, the first clue that I didn’t always agree with things posted.

while sitting around our dining table, eating all the leftovers that has forever been a family tradition, they reminded me of my first adventure.

I was barely 9 years-old, and no one can remember what actually set me off, but the fact that I was set off was something - things never seemed to bother me.

but this time stayed in my room for a good 2 hours.

there were sounds, but no cause for alarm, as it was only me and my G.I. Joe’s.

for a few minutes, it was quiet.

and then Mom, who was in Ashley’s room, saw a dark-haired head poke around the corner.

‘I’m going now’, I announced, waiting for any sort of reaction.

there was none.

I mean, after all, how far can a 9 year-old get in the middle of the Oklahoma country?

on my back was a schoolbag, that wouldn’t have held more than a few changes of clothes.

and behind me, a Radio Flyer wagon, carrying every action figure and tank and ‘real operating wings!’ jet I could fit.

I walked out of the house, proclaiming once more my departure.

but for reaction, all I got were looks.

they were neither amused, nor angry - curious, I suppose,

and you can’t blame them.

up the driveway,

out onto the road that rarely saw a stranger

and down, down, down the road that would, in a mile, show any signs of use.

from their window, a guesstimate of 5 times I stopped, checked my Joe’s, then turned around to look.

no one came, and I kept going.

finally out of sight, my Mother came to get me.

I wasn’t crying, she might have been a little bit.

‘where were you going to go?’

I refused to answer.

but instead had something to ask myself.

‘did you see me?’

apparently she did.

and perhaps, after more than a year traveling,

that same mindset resonates.

the Taj never changed my life, and if you ask me about it, I’ve got not much to tell.

but will forever let you know that ‘I’m going now’

in hopes you find that,

at least a tad,

interesting.

this is Mom & Dad’s backyard.

it’s one of my favorite places.

‘how ya doin’?’

‘good, thanks. you?’

‘fine, thank you’.

that’s usually how it goes. it might even end after that second line. people say ‘hello’ and instinctively ask the same back. this isn’t a process that is obscure to anyone.

it’s basically obligatory.

and I like that.

but today, while eating lunch with my Dad, I got up to get him some ketchup.

not for me, for him - I hate the stuff.

I stood behind a man in orange talking to a couple in the line adjacent.

they exchanged the formalities mentioned.

and that was nice - I liked that.

but it didn’t stop there.

as most understand the understated end to that greeting[s].

but neither had the heart to be the last one to talk.

to end a sentence without a question mark.

they probably weren’t really interested in the details,

maybe they were.

but what they wouldn’t have is the silence that follows the silent end to a new conversation.

and so the questions kept coming.

the weather, the food, the Cowboys season and the coupons Chic-Fil-A offered.

and they stretched it out until both cashiers took both their orders.

and then said ‘thanks’, they said ‘goodbye’ and I heard one ‘much obliged’.

it was more important for them to not let the niceties drift off,

than to focus on their own things,

what they needed to order,

their own lives,

and the lives of those in theirs.

and I liked that.

I liked that very, very much.

this is not a photo of my brother.

but there’s probably one that exists.

not under the flag, thank God

although there were times where we didn’t know.

he has been on either side of the stripes though,

losing best friends from feet away

he’s gone to places he can’t even speak about

nor is he really keen to

he’s buried more comrades

and taken shrapnel out of his own body.

in the name of war, of justice, of principle,

of what’s right and what’s wrong?

no.

in fact, he remains ambivalent when asked.

he surrendered his opinions

so that we could have ours.

and followed through on a promise

that most of us would never make.

while I’m becoming more conscious not to use so many bad words when I write, I can’t not here.

that’s my motha fucka.

today was a cool day in los angeles. I knew it before I even felt it, because I had slept long and I had slept well. looking outside to the quiet streets, I thought the time might have been earlier than what it actually was, seeing how there was no one on the streets. daylight savings? nope. that’s in a few weeks, Google told me. there was no way not to be in a good mood - even if you’re one of those warm weather people. the breeze slipped in through our living room windows and found its way all the way back to the bedroom, but not before touching each of the other rooms first. it was to be a day of cleaning, cooking and laundry and that made me happy. I guess because I haven’t really gotten to play ‘house’ as much as others. grocery stores are an adult toy shop, warm towels become a beer buzz - that felt as gay to write as it probably did to hear, but it’s the truth. being domestic is my weekend away, I guess. it was also a day of food shopping, and I felt the overwhelming need to taste something from the days before. I do this a lot, mostly when I’m sick, as my Mom had the world’s greatest remedy of 7-Up and grape juice - it was a poor family’s Robitussinn and it would cure anything you had. sometimes I make that even when I’m not sick. but today was the day I would have Campbell’s Tomato Soup [cracked black pepper a must] and a grilled cheese with a Coca-Cola. this was made many a rainy day by both Mom and Dad. he’d be on the sandwiches and she’s man the stove. in retrospect, it wasn’t a hard dish to make, but I agreed with the kid on the front of the can. in the end, I chose Chicken Noodle, ’cause Lori was making pasta and forgot all about the Coca-Cola, but it didn’t matter - I know I couldn’t have done as good as a job as those two did with it anyway.

funny how that is.