My computer has had a bit of a stroke and even now as I type, I must periodically stop and wait thirty seconds to see if the words were entered correctly (suspenseful!), and find my place on the page again. It is no small bit of fortune then, that my brother is a (computer) witch doctor, and he is right now enchanting a new hard drive and my brave little toaster will go into surgery this week and hopefully come out the other side STRONGER. With cool (internal) scars that other computers will fear and respect. But do you think other computers like my computer? I worry sometimes.
As I am tethered (voluntarily) to the proximity of my father's bedside I can't help but inhale, for the first time in my life, a lungful of wanderlust. Perhaps it is because I have cured myself of the pressure of having to find myself out there somewhere, (I could be anywhere!) and having myself relatively in tow, can't help but think how nice it would be to run away with myself.
Writing and editing guides to America's National Parks (seasonally), I was often asked "Do you get to go to the parks?" Which if I was in a good enough mood not to be soured by the eventual slight, and managed not to laugh loud and bitterly in the offending face, I would simply respond, "no, there's not a a lot of money in parks guides." Fair enough. But it is a relatively difficult (though still inspiring) thing to research and write about AMERICA'S GREATEST IDEA from a little co-work space off Union Square, in between the dog walker people and the broadway tickets people in the chill of New York winter and then worse, in the beautiful thaw of spring.
National Parks Greg has been to: 6 (Zion, Arches, Mesa Verde, Grand Canyon, Shenandoah, Acadia)
Writing, for pay at least, so far in my life has been so much less about experience than I imagined. Of course I also imagined writing from a cabin in the woods, with the smell of aged tobacco all around me (in this fantasy, I hire an old fogey once a week to come over and smoke a pipe in my business, we play Go and complain about the European starlings). But both in the experience of writing (at the risk of sounding ungrateful, what experience?) and in the experience necessary to create paying content, so much is missing.
But I've never been designed all that efficiently. I produce an ungodly amount of earwax. I sleep 9+. I don't need a phone to watch a show. I'm carried away by whims. I'm usually too bewildered to be bored. I'm deeply attracted to things that are off and don't make sense. So why not flee from jobs and fiscally forward thinking plans and go toward the edge of the shelf into the less known?
A place for product updates, inspiration, behind the scenes stuff, and in general a place for mind meandering.