City life in Banff and Calgary
Photos taken in August while on family vacation in the Canadian Rockies
Wish coins make me sad. I see them everywhere I travel, anywhere with water inside a container, any container, any water, any currency, any wish weighty and hopeless enough to to warrant a coin tossed into a foreign basin.
I feel sad about the graffiti on bathroom walls, too, the ones sloppily-written, in the drunken stupor of a broken-heart possessor. I hear them wailing in raw desperation as I pee.
I think of the countless dreams that had more or less a 50/50 chance of coming true; I try not to think of the ones that didn’t come true; There are too many demises; too many “wishing you were heres” and “are you still thinking of me”s, too many pragmatic closet-regretters and moving-on-ers; too many hearts fracturing like dusty china in dining room cabinets.
A Note I Left with a Friend Today
My new cartoon after a long hiatus
Conversation with a High School Friend
I don’t know if you’ve ever read “Unbearable Lightness of Being”? I don’t necessarily recommend it because it’s quite depressing in many ways, but there is a great quote that describes the central theme of the discussion in the novel. It says ” Chance and chance alone has a message for us. Everything that occurs out of necessity, everything expected, repeated day in and day out, is mute. Only chance can speak to us.” I have found this to be absolutely true over the years. Perhaps it is the same concept as what he (http://youtu.be/H9gh1FpoZqI) referred to as a “call” for adventure. Anyway I hope things are going well in NYC as you embark on your next adventure, a different kind, an “adventure” nonetheless. Today as I was flying back into the US from Canada after a trip through the Canadian Rockies, I watched the sunrise over the plane’s left wing and I was suddenly filled with gratitude, that I was alive to see this sunrise, when I could have been dead for a million reasons, run over by a drunk driver, eaten by a bear, had something fall on me, acute food poisoning, you get the idea. I think people who love adventures have a certain sense of urgency that perhaps stems from a greater sense of gratitude for being alive and present and becoming more in touch with themselves through new experiences and connections with strangers and foreign thoughts.
Recently I got back in touch with a good friend from high school who is relocating back to St. Louis next summer after getting a job offer at a local law firm. We had not talked since early 2008 (even then it was a brief conversation) and had not seen each other for more than a decade. I was moved by this part of our conversation that I decide to share here:
JD: which reminds me — I’m not sure if you recall this — but as I wandered through the college campus a while back, I recalled a conversation we had there which more or less set me on my present path
JD: haha, it’s a little odd — I think it was after a math competition in 9th grade, and I hadn’t done terribly well as I remember
and it occurred to me, as we were talking about it, that were so many paths lying before us. I remember wondering then where they would diverge — where they got their starts, and how they reach their ends, and this thought struck me: there were people like you who didn’t have paths just lying there cut out cleanly before them, but they make them. It was the first time I thought the only path is the one you cut for yourself, because, at least I remembered thinking, you had got everything you had — which was a lot — mostly by sheer imagination
Me: Very interesting! What did I have at the time? I didnt have much haha! I was pretty direction-less
JD: Yes, but it seemed you had more in you — expressed in your art, say — than anybody else I’d known then, and you were just going to find your way by some leap of imagination — sketch it for yourself. Anyway, I just remembered that…Strange what lingers with you