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Day 32

Last day in Mallorca

this way of staying in motion is a steady pace of intense swells; short periods of normalcy bookended by drastic change. learning/growth/loss. 32 days is just enough time to begin to feel comfortable in this place, to get to know people on a first-name basis, to never be worried about getting lost when going out.

Palma reminded me quite a bit of Alaska; tourist-reliant island towns have a certain identity crisis when it comes to their nature. The tourism is a front to the locals, but without it, the local economy and culture would be so radically different that really what is ‘false’ has a fair claim to being true. In the end it seemed Palma—and Ibiza—were as much about the seasonal presence of foreigners as anything else. I guess that’s how it goes.

Still, there was a prevalent kindness to the people and a distinct appreciation for the beauty and presence of the island—and all that its people had to offer—that so often is used for a sales pitch but, in its honest core, is quite remarkable.

I’ll have more to say about Mallorca at a later date—in a more retrospective way, for this surely doesn’t do it any justice. It’s like saying the sky there is blue. It’s technically true, but there’s so much more than that.

06:00 / 18 May 2019
Posted to Personal


Day 28

—fraught&fragile, it strikes me as ironic how surrender is never easy. acting in earnest to kill the mind in order to try for a ‘good nights sleep’ is quintessentially what it means to be American. use Netflix or a bottle of wine ten rounds on a video game or two Ambien or whatever. we kill ourselves to try and avoid cognitively recognizing the tragedy and heartbreak of living through a single honest day.

pacing around the courtyard for an hour, i kill time trying to figure out why i kill time. how my mind falters without stimulation. i perfectly understand the grotesque capitalism that surrounds the Market of Higher Education in America, but fuck if I don’t want to be in school again.

i say this from a patio in Spain—without hesitation. just because something is wonderful doesn’t mean it is immune to the judgment of circumstance. understanding and appreciating the context of life is difficult. as much as i’ve enjoyed this month and look forward to the next and the next, my lack of opportunity to create substantial art is consistently nagging at me: you’re doing it wrong. this is the time to build, not the time to absorb and abscond.

my next gig is in Ireland and there will be artists and musical instruments about, and later this summer likely a gig at an art community in Denmark… so I am simply trying to survive for now without an outlet. but still, it is less the lack of a studio and more that I am putting the resource of my time into transience when, for the first time ever, my heart is desiring an anchor, a place to work toward perseverance, a way to wait out the storm. i am almost ready to risk the idea of calling a place home.

Wayne showed up tonight on a rushed visit from England due to some passport complications getting in to France. he was immediately likable and fascinating; certainly a joy to talk with. he asked me for suggestions on how to get to town and where to go, and I spent ten minutes giving him bullet points instead of just putting on a fucking shirt and going out with him. i now have a night to kick myself at this unending inability to just be human.

i’m pretty sure travel is just an opportunity to find out all the different places you can be a total fuck-up in.

23:00 / 13 May 2019
Posted to Personal


Day 20

the immediate future is the only future: a week in Paris with my dad and then off to Ireland for a spell, where I intend to record and release some new music. outside of that—

09:00 / 6 May 2019
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shoot your shots

due to a mishap that i don’t like to talk about, my precious camera was out of commission for some time. now rebuilt like new with a contrasting 50mm summicron, i’m back to taking on the streets all over the world—literally. still shooting like a basketball player returning from a leg injury, i’ve yet to escape the practice i used with most of my other int’l street photographs, but looking forward to pushing those limits a bit as i get back in the habit.

Back at it · Palma de Mallorca, Spain

shot so far (since boston 23 days ago): 6 b/w, 2 color, 1 color slide. still to shoot (before needing to buy more, obviously): 6 b/w, 7 color, 1 color slide. feels good, man.

14:00 / 2 May 2019
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Day 16

(early morning, just past dawn, I’ve only managed to calm myself enough for sleep a few hours prior and now the day has broken; sitting outside with my second cup of coffee and a raging headache, I do not notice the birds happily chirping until after a helicopter flying low overhead disrupts the flat blue sky. a calvacade of screams, roaring guitars… old songs have been echoing through my head, and the morning calm is completely lost on me, as my mind is already trapped in a black hole of extreme noise, destructive imagery from around the world and a state of terror regarding the heartbreak of each passing minute)

Walking down the main drag in Palma. Across the two lanes and their median is an array of overpriced shops lining the sidewalk. Nestled behind in the dense alleyways are luxurious hotels, tapas bars, high-end fashion retailers and other consumer-minded businesses catering to the international jet set crowd. There’s a yacht show down in the harbor.

And the entire way, it smells like shit. It’s strange, it’s fitting—on one side of me a famous cathedral, on the other a parade of BMWs and Audis with drivers wearing sunglasses that cost more than all the clothes on my body combined. The air difficult to breathe, each inhalation a balancing act of How much air do I need against How much of this smell can I take

(early morning, the opposite, past midnight, sitting at a table listening to conversations on either side of me; one in spanish, one in french. Fabrice tells me of his old life in Paris as an art director—of selling it all, moving to Mallorca after a 30-year career to be with his fellow artists, to play music. He was a co-founder of an advertising agency and now works odd jobs, but was playing his guitar wonderfully just hours earlier as his true passion. I feel a kinship to him, to the mentality, to the place… I suppose my career is experience, my tenure is in mapping the road.)

there are these parts of me i recognize in the places I visit, the people I meet, the conversations I have; parts of me that I don’t feel in myself anymore. Parts that feel closer to a memory than to my self.

01:30 / 2 May 2019
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Day 14

—planning the future, one destination at a time. no future exists otherwise. it’s a strange way to be. none of the elements of my past exist in my present; their meaning and presence in space and time is now only a confluence of memories and emotional response. electrical signals conducting physical response to send electrical signals, to consider a physical future.

The #3 bus stops at the end of the street, about eight blocks down. so far, of the five times I’ve walked to the stop, the bus has arrived as I’ve been a block away three of them. It’s not a good ratio. everything feels as if I’m on the wrong wavelength, that I’ve shifted off-course. an unsettling feeling to have alone in a foreign country. an unsettling feeling to have in general; distance from one place to the next is meaningless without a home, and I’ve never been anything but alone.

23:30 / 29 April 2019
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for what it’s worth

constant exhaustion… myself, the world at large, everything in between. we are at the end of history and nothing matters; the celebrations have begun. where that leaves me, in a lifelong quarrel with meaning, is simply behind.

i have never been one to ‘fit in’ and most of my practices with others—school, business—have been for naught. only on our First Friday events at The Warehouse, a bottle of wine in one hand and a guitar in the other, have i felt at place in this world. it’s better than nothing, to feel at home even if but for a minute before the end.

society worldwide is reaping what it has sewn, a grand picture easy to see, difficult to avoid. should i have given up like the rest, sat in an office and collected dividends on the labor of others?

there are many types of loneliness, madness and misery paving the way. the projection of happiness, the falsehood of this society, the complete lack in its art. sobriety is a state of constant disgust and anger. coming to terms with my own demons does not take much effort, but trying to relate to that of others anymore is nearly impossible.

those who would be content with monetary wealth in this world have destroyed it, for purpose and potential arc to such heights above that invented oppression, yet are so easily controlled by its gravity.

16:00 / 29 April 2019
Posted to Personal


Tomorrow I’ll Be You

on the 3 bus

wasn’t sure if this guy was drunk or just in his own world, his movements were awkward and he wouldn’t stop smiling, bobbing his head around, eyes alternately opening and closing out of sync. he kept to himself, hands and head shaking awkwardly from time to time, signs of age or illness or both. we both exited the bus at the same stop, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked slowly down the street, a slight hunch and i thought there i go, somewhere lost in time and I turned left and won’t ever see him again

18:30 / 27 April 2019
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count down look out

prior to takeoff

two bags, one camera, no return ticket

(other numbers: $300 cash, thirteen rolls black and white film, twelve unmarked pages in the passport, eleven shirts, ten rolls color film, nine hours removed from the American west, eight pairs socks/underwear, seven months to play around with, six invitations to work, five wires, four pairs of pants, three forms of identification, two lenses, one day at a time)

it’s been 20 days since leaving the west coast and 10 since landing in Europe. It’s strange to me how location seems to matter less—granted, being in America these days sucks so there is that—but more necessary is the changing views. I’ve one or two more weeks to fiddle around in Mallorca before heading toward Paris. Then, who knows. I’m considering Denmark or Ireland.

I’ll never be able to afford to buy a home but I’m at least not gonna sit on a fucking couch giving all my money to Comcast and Amazon for the rest of my life.

11:00 / 25 April 2019
Posted to Personal


Day Five

… overcast skies follow my movements, it would seem

22:30 / 20 April 2019
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Clear History

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