10/16/16: Las Vegas - Dabbling With Digital Detox

I had been to Las Vegas a couple of times. Once when I transferred Greyhounds when I was 13. The other for an airline transfer. Leaving the airport in the wee hours of Wednesday morning with Natali was the first time I'd actually seen the strip, even though from afar.

Except for her to walk her dog, the two of us didn't leave the apartment until Friday. We spent 2 1/2 full days just talking about everything imaginable and getting to know each other. Nearly nonstop from when we woke up in the morning until we went to bed. It was exhausting but, in some distantly familiar way, exhilarating.

For those two days, I tried putting the notion of Digital Detox into practice. Despite the glaring irony and inconsistency, that have their reasons, I've been concerned about living and seeing the world electronically for a long time. After reading a fantastic piece (online) by Andrew Sullivan about his struggles to reclaim his humanity and essence from cyberspace, I decided to give it a shot.

For these two days, the phone was in another room and the TV stayed off until there was an actual specific purpose for either of them. Facebook? Ha! Nearly a nonentity.

What I discovered? It was so much easier to concentrate on the conversation, focus on who was in the room, and maintain a sense of positivity and presence without the distraction of having "the whole world" right there in front of me.

Out of sight, out of mind. The simple act of making the iPhone a non-reflexive, non-habitual entity made the entire process work and I felt reconnected to the "real" world. That's something, not coincidentally, that also happens when I travel in Latin America without cellular voice or data. And, a corresponding and inevitable disconnection also typically occurs when I get to a hostel with...you guessed it...wifi! Then it's like Starbucks. A roomful of people posting selfies and oblivious to each other's existence.

Peru was an inadvertent case study in that. I spent two of my three months off-the-grid at Chris' eco-hostel 13,000 ft. up the Andes skirt. The only power was gathered by modest solar cells. Everything after sundown was done by candle light. Wifi? Ha! Slow, rudimentary cellular internet at best. And it didn't work most of the time. Internet wasn't a taken-for-granted utility. It was a sparsely used tool. Hour long trips were planned to go down the mountainside to Huaraz just to get it. And not very often.

In the meantime? People...talked! To other real people! Who were IN THE ROOM WITH THEM! Eureka! When they weren't talking ? Reading. Writing. Taking world class hikes. Just sitting down. Shutting up. "Being". Without any contrived external entertainment.

It was a bit unnerving at first, but the mental batteries recharged and clarity of thought and focus returned. These weren't just my observations. Other people from different backgrounds around the world noticed, commented on it, and appreciated it as well. There were ways to bring wifi to The Hof if Chris really wanted to. He didn't. That's exactly why.

One other Peruvian observation: even after all that time unplugged I still an unconsciously resumed old habits as soon as I returned to "civilization". Our brains are being rewired and reprogrammed by our machines.

Another thing I noticed last week: How politics changes my entire mood, vibe, energy, and general outlook. And, I don't need to be discussing it for that to happen. Social media or TV? Doesn't matter. As soon as election "news" or commentary is put in front of me, and I put any degree of focus in its direction: ZAP! Whatever positive energy that was there before was gone. Cynicism floods in to replace it. And it was sometimes difficult to get it back. More so the longer I was immersed in it. I would have another stark in-person example provided for me the day I finally began the real"trip"! (Foreshadowing now!)

There is an incredibly instructive, overreaching society-based idea to be mined on that last point. Obviously, I'm not unique in that regard. I'm simply not wanting to poke this complex observation into a fucking iPhone while lying on my sleeping bag behind a truckstop in the desert! Not the "cushiest" place I've written! (Foreshadowing Forever!)

Sadly, this little two-day experiment didn't last. Natali left Friday night to stay with her cousin so she could take her to the airport early Saturday morning. I was alone in her apartment, so my flirtation with cyber-celibacy ended abruptly.  It started with me innocently editing and posting a YouTube video. Before I knew it I was right back where I was. Habitually grabbing the phone like a crack pipe. And wondering how this was going to be when I finally hit the road! A smartphone? That had never been attempted!

The rest of the weekend wasn't worth talking about. The TV came on, phones went in hand, and that short, surprisingly intense connection we'd forged was mostly gone. I suppose my little visit to Las Vegas was a miniscule microcosm for what I was describing about Peru. No phone: human connection. As soon as it returns? Poof! Zombie from Electronistan!

In retrospect, I should have left Sunday. But, since I'd not given myself time to think thru everything thoroughly before I left, I needed a post office. Or, so I thought! (Make Foreshadowing Great Again!)

One thing for sure: by Monday morning, it was obviously past time for me to fly...

10/11/16: The October Surprise

When I returned from Peru in February, the "plan" (ha!) was to spend the summer hitchhiking. A glorious and heroic return to the method, adventure, and free-flowing existential orgies of 2008-2010. With a "real" camera this time! Then vocation took over. I underestimated how difficult replacing the computer that was stolen last fall in the break-in would be and how much I had to learn about putting digital photographs on paper! Long story short, I got sidetracked. Not that I "couldn't" go. I didn't feel "right" about half-assing this exponentially expanding photography project. Before I knew it, it was late July. My first photo show was rapidly approaching in August. My remaining resources were put into production and presentation. I had no expectations but lo and behold! I sold things. I made money. Then I entered another spontaneous show in September. I sold more things. I made more money.

 

"Hey! Maybe I was right about this photography thing." Unfortunately, the summer wasn't just photo shows. Life's never that singular and monolithic, is it? It was also complicated by redneck Vulture Family Values drama. The details aren't for you to consume, but suffice it to say that in a spasm of self-destructive rage, I sold my camera and telephoto lens. I put some of that money toward upgrading my travel gear thinking, wrongly in my fit of DNA disgust, that I was ready to scrape photography to the ground and just "go".

I'd been here before. I should know better. Add an unneeded photo gear complication for later in the year. That would be fun to deal with! After the last show, things got annoyingly familiar. Again: what the hell was I going to do? It was almost October. Getting late in the year to be thumbing and stealth camping, unless I was eager to be fucking around in the snow. Which, if you've been around from the start, you know I'm most certainly NOT!

My friend Natali and I had been tinkering with the idea of me starting a trip at her place in Las Vegas for the past few months. She'd been subjected to my indecisiveness firsthand. After a couple of weeks of mentally masturbating and creating all sorts of the old, familiar doomsday narratives in my head, September had become October, and I decided to jump.

On Tuesday the 11th, I bought the ticket to Vegas. For that night. I gave myself approximately 8-hours to prepare for a completely improvised and open-ended trip. The only things I was mindfull of at that moment: "I'm sick of the sound of my own voice. I'm sick of the same internal conversations. I know what this is: the same irrational, contrived anxiety that stopped you from starting this for four years, from 2004-2008. Unfounded fear. And you know how ridiculous it was then. How the imaginary mountains were in practice tiny molehills. Figure it out on the fly. The only way you'll do it is to take your own mind out of the equation. Fuck the camera. Just go. Dumbass."

I went. Before I could second, third, and tenth guess it. As soon as the ticket was bought, all the abstract redundant silliness of the summer abated. What mattered was what was ahead of me. First: getting the gear together for my flight! I had to focus and act. Amazing how useful that is. By 8:30, I was headed to O'Hare. I had no idea what to expect beyond getting reacquainted with my friend. And, once in the air I noticed a remarkable mix of both excitement and calm resignation! I'd always talked about just "going" no plan. No expectation. Just to see where the road took me. I was finally doing it. And without "planning not to plan"! It's neat when you realize you can still surprise yourself.



I shot an email off to Chris. He understood. And, despite everything you just read, there would be a mini encore performance as well as a cementing of some recent realizations in the coming days. Particularly about the absurd corrosive effects of social media.

 How does that saying go? "If you're suffering, you're thinking..."

The Revised Gospel of Joshua

If you're religious and found this via a "Gospel+Joshua" search on Google, you're lost and should probably leave. Search engines are secular. So am I. There. Fair warning.


For the rest of you? This will be music to many, many ears.

I'm slowly, almost remedially, coming to the practical understanding of just how much of a thief "politics" is becoming. I'm not even sure this shit qualifies, but it's steadily and increasingly robbing us of our commonality. Dividing people along contrived, imaginary lines. Lines eagerly accepted by hordes of people whose only moral compass is set by their chosen ideology's definition of North, rather than their own. That's the only explanation for the term "conservative Christian"!

With acknowledging pre-apologies for likely relapses and a couple of purging posts to come: I MUST find a way to abandon this folly. Because...it really...doesn't...matter.

If Trump wins? Putting aside the Nuclear Winter scenarios that involve the jilted Orange Crush nuking his strong Russian Stallion for cheating on him with Sisi, the Left will fracture and radicalize. Just like the Republicans after Obama's inauguration, and the liberal version of Tebaggery will be just as annoying and vile. Hell, he hasn't even been elected and they've already begun going full-frontal extremist, eh Jill? How do Bernie's Babies like their new nursery?

***

"It's completely different! We're progressiiiiiiiiive! We're evolllllllvinggggg!" 

Ugh. I know, I know. Now sit down. And shut the fuck up.

***

Where was I? Ah, yes....

Hillary. Typing it makes me ill and in any other year I'd be wiping my ass with this election. But, I'm actually voting for The Hilliazard. Plugging my nose doesn't even begin to describe it. I detest her. But, I have to. Trump is tapping into something historically ominous. He, and what he's mindlessly unleashed, is literally (proper use) dangerous. On a catastrophic scale. And, handing an orange, inarticulate raging ape the Nuclear Football? That is literally (proper use!) the height of irresponsible stupidity.

But, on the other hand, if and when Clinton staggers & stumbles into the Oval Office, do you suppose Trump's White Walkers will be heroically vanquished? Will we all sing Kumbaya and roast marshmallow around an enlightened national campfire? Will we all have a Coke and smile before wiping away a happy tear of newfound national unity and hugging it out?

Ha! Hardly.

On November 9th, probably around 6am ET, when the Wednesday news cycle's getting into full swing, Trump will scream "Crooked Hillary stole the election!" Then, predictably, his drooling White Walkers will further descend into fabricated Nationalistic Auslander Rage and simultaneously the militias will become something more than rural squirrel killing curiosities. Much more. Mark those words. I've never been more certain of anything than this. It's a ridiculous thing for most of us to hear oozing from a fully-grown humanoid's snout, but "take our country baaaaaack!" actually has meaning in that bizarre parallel conspiracy-fueled universe.

Someone wrote, "History never repeats. But it often rhymes." Something "rhyming" with Civil War is coming. There's no "coming together", fuckos. Look around. Read thru your fucking Facebook feeds with objective eyes. The loss of whatever tenuous collective connection we once had to a shared set of objective facts has sealed our general fate. And it's ugly. We've split into two screaming mobs. Each guided by contrived, mutually exclusive political religions. Their scriptures written and preached by snake charmers.

Not to be confused with Pastor Snake (second fr. right)

I assume you've seen War Games. This all reminds me of Joshua struggling to learn the futility of Tic Tac Toe. There is no "winning" scenario. NOTHING will be solved after November 8. Whoever loses will just re-mobilize for their counterstrike.

"Learn, Goddamit!"

For me, personally, it's surprisingly simple and it goes back to my let go of that which does not fucking matter.... idea I wrote about earlier in the week. There is literally (almost proper use!) no bigger waste of time than trying to "discourse" with the willfully ignorant. Futilely trying only corrodes respect. And, while it gives my ego a righteous boner, preaching to my choir is even less productive than spending the afternoon on YouPorn. Not even the gooey mess to show for my...efforts...and it distracts from other things I should be focussing on. Worse, it's robbing me of my my optimism, hope, what was once a freely-flowing sense of humor, and, because of the times in which we live, even relationships. It's reminded me more than once of the "brother vs. brother" description of the first Civil War.

And for what?! Is something changing? Have I missed it? All this...and it's getting worse! 

 "The only winning move is not to play." Hail, Joshua. But there is of course a problem. Despite my "two tribes" analogy, both tribes are NOT "the same". Even if I were to go into complete political radio silence, I'm still sure to be bombarded by these increasing, and increasingly audacious, displays of random "patriot" stupidity. I would literally (proper use...I think) lose no more respect for some folks if they told me they approved of child rape than I do via these emphatic fascist pronouncements of Trump Love. Sure, I can stand down. But, the loss of basic, fundamental human respect can't just be replaced. The damage to the relationship is done. It's permanent. Hey, I'm glad you're "keepin' it real" and all, but it also reminds me of the old Pantera song. "Be yourself. By yourself. Stay away from me."

And the echo chamber isolation grows. Yep. Winter is coming. Shit. It's almost here. Who's drinkin'?

Behold! The immaculate decree!
The original Joshua tablet as it was delivered to the Prophet Falken
inside Holy Cheyenne Mountain.

(You're very welcome, by the way! Happy to paint the above sticky picture for you. What's that? No Snapchat. Sorry.)

The Useless Shit Epiphany

Ask any mildly observant chum who’s chosen “traveling” over “tourism”, and they’ll probably tell you how it’s filled with an abundance of experience-driven lessons, insights, and odd occurrences. “Trail Magic” it’s often called. Once you’ve felt it, the trail comes alive. And you’re either freaked out or hooked. My blogs are filled with these tales. I’m most certainly hooked!

But, while peering into the depths, I have a maddening tendency to miss the blatantly obvious mermaid frantically waving right in front of my face.

This is from my very first travel post, in May 2008:

“…about 1/2 mile down the road from the drop off I had a LONG list of the extra crap (like electric clippers) I had in my bag that I simply did NOT need! Lesson: stick to the essentials! Comfort items become uncomfortable on your back, and slow you down!”

Today I realized that there's a monumental, powerful lesson in these quickly scribbled words. One that, despite being in plain sight for 8-years, I completely missed. And, it was literally (proper use!) the very first "lesson". Even if it is one I’ve had to repeatedly be reminded of since!

It’s like clock work. First day of every trip: I find that I’ve overpacked out of the “fear” that I’ll leave something I’ll “need” behind. Then,  once I’m out there, I start bitching to myself (usually) about how I’ve brought too much as the added dead-weight makes my little comfort items very uncomfortable!

That's great, Todd. But, what makes your repeated, short-bus-silliness “monumental”? 

For the last few years, I've been struggling to develop a consistent, all-encompassing metaphysical philosophy, with tiny degrees of success. Finding cohesiveness in that is hard enough on its own! But I’ve also been trying to completely reconcile who I was in 2008 and 2009 with who I am now; trying to “pack everything” by tying every obscure lesson, detail, and insight from the last 8-12 years perfectly together into a very limited space, rather than just picking out the practical, useful parts and stowing the rest. I’ve been cognitively, and often emotionally, hoarding. And, completely missed the obvious connection and lesson of that very first day: "pack only what’s needed and what fits. Forget the rest!"

“But, Self! What if I ‘neeeeeeed’ it??”

"Have it sent. Or, you know, just pick it up along the way. Dumbass."

Back in 2004, when radio went Stage 4 and this massive self/species exploration began, the foundation was  Thoreauian: simplify, simplify, simplify! Figure out what's real and essential. That kernel led to the backpack. And, it’s taken this long, and perhaps Mr. Mushroom Voice triggered it, to realize that people, ideas, and philosophies fall under the “Get rid of that which doesn’t fucking matter to make room for that which most certainly does” insight. And, that it's nearly identical to the one I had literally (proper use!) 15-minutes in to my travels:

“Unburden yourself from this useless shit, you silly fucker!”

It’s the precise (if slightly less profane) abstract equivalent.

Before the "useless shit" epiphany. 60-65 pounds!

**"Trail Magic" Diversion:  I left my phone in the car and Chris graciously drove back from Denver to deliver it that first night. I was mercifully able to "unburden myself" almost immediately. Was it...The Universe? Did Jesus playfully pull my phone from my pocket? How DO they make marshmallows....

So, now I’ve begun the process of sorting out what I brought home from the last 8-years and remains useful for the next epoch's expedition. Setting my extra abstract “stuff” aside to clear room for the essentials. In this metaphor (and you should just get used to metaphors right fucking now), it’s become the process of finally separating the useful ideas, methods, and people from the warm creature comforts and incomprehensible ghosts. And letting the rest of my past’s clutter just lie. Unsorted, uncategorized, and boxed up in the closet. Although I’m sure I’ll find I’ve brought too much. Again! I can’t seem to help it.

Not everything you have can, or should, be taken on every expedition. In fact, that’s one of the main points. Nor can every idea, experience, or person tag along thru each epoch, chapter, or phase of life. And thats okay! There’s no mutual obligation to be universal or permanent. That’s growth. That’s evolution. Otherwise, you’re hoarding. And, unless you’re life is stagnant and stationary, that quickly becomes an impossible load for even Sancho’s trusty mule to carry.