Attacked by Turkey Vultures.
Vultures smell weakness, call other vultures. Vultures circle overhead...
Vultures go too far...
No. More. Vulture.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
The Birds - May 29th
Climbed Mountain.
Attacked by Turkey Vultures.
Vultures smell weakness, call other vultures. Vultures circle overhead...
Vultures go too far...
No. More. Vulture.
Attacked by Turkey Vultures.
Vultures smell weakness, call other vultures. Vultures circle overhead...
Vultures go too far...
No. More. Vulture.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Perdon, estoy sangrando mucho - May 26th, 2007
Hello Hello everyone,
It's been a while since I've put together anything formative in this space, and while most often it is my leinent life that provides stale news, that is so very not the case these days. My writing of late has been a bit drab, so I'll try to pick it up a bit, but be forewarned there is so much I'm going to be talking about.
Headspace
Well I've been here in Mexico for not even 6 days now, and whether it is the heat or the saturation of pleasure, the days drip by slowly. I landed in Puerto Vallarta after flying in from LAX where I was totally overcome with an ignorant and yet undenyable hatred of the States. I'm sure that half of the bleached blondes flitting between chain stores were Canadian, but to my eyes, and without the moral burden of being a foreign guest, every animal in that cage echoed deadened eyes. I was anxious to enter a country of my own choosing, where I could encapsulate myself with the essential humility and respect owing a visitor. I'm not sure what the point of that story was, but I found it interesting at the time the contrast I was given between the normal judgmental mindset common in our own mental backyards, and the fresh optimism radiated from the unknown.
Hasta la victoria Gringo
Puerto Vallarta however, was a flashpoint slap in the face to my own nieve travelling origins. I had always considered my trip across Canada to be a warm-up lap, a chance to experience and survive the challenge of a new life, without the harsh daily realties of being a foreigner. To that end my journey was mainly successful, as I am a little weathered to the basic emotional elements of travelling. There are the somewhat crushing moments of weighty loneliness found in every strange room, or the ever-present jubilation at each unseen sunset and unknown terrace, these feelings are the same for me no matter the place. The real challenges were those which we can foresee, but only overcome with effort and determination. Ignorance, mainly.
Ola, me llamo Stupid
There was a big football game on Sunday afternoon when I arrived, and the money exchanges were all closed early. This meant that I had absolutely no pesos, no language, and no way to get my bus to Guadalajara. The airport terminal was filled with a hawking of wares and soliciting of tourists I had never experienced, leaving me quiet and overwhelmed. I passed by what I thought was a hotel room selling command-center, only to realize in retrospect that it was the visitor information, a mistake that could have saved me quite a lot of stress and money. (And adventure)
It does not take much to strip away one's social armament, and I stood obviously clueless and lost amidst an ever dwindling tourist stream. I grabbed a taxi to the bus station, hoping to find an open exchange, and was promptly hosed on the fare. It was a poor decision to head off without assurity, and when I got to the station I found no exchanges, but more so a complete lack of English. I don't mean for my surprise to sound ethnocentric, I am fully aware I have left my home country, but seeing as the station was just a quick jaunt from the airport, in a major tourist mecca, I thought more of the service staff would be able to help. No luck.
God I look back at that moment and hate myself, my complete and total ignorance. I look back at the fragments of that ignorance that I sorround myself with daily, and hate what I represent, the disrespect. There are a lot of vows made every day that I will never allow myself to be so unprepared as a traveller, although the reality of a trip is that sometimes that may be unavoidable. I guess I'll just have to work my hardest, or once more go through this daily gauntlet of humiliation.
Anyways, intensity aside, I found an amazing cab driver who spoke a little English, and he drove me all around the city for almost an hour on an arthurian quest for an open money exchange. Keep in mind that it was 7:00 pm on a Sunday, and doors were closing as fast as we could find them. One thing happened though that I felt was very peculiar:
It took no more than ten minutes in the company of a seemingly trustworthy person for me to completely forsake all iotas of travelling common sense and wisdom. I managed to commit both of the cardinal sins:
Left my backpack, with everything inside, unattended in the cab several times.
Removed giant wad of cash from pocket in public.
I suppose I was so damn relieved to have someone who was helping me that I just didn't feel like being smart at all, and just needed to put all my faith in humanity to the test. I won't say I was lucky that my driver was an honest man, I don't think that it is a lucky thing to assume people are good and trust them, but it certainly was the dumbest thing I could do. All in all, we found an exchange, and he dropped me off at the bus station, after almost an hour of driving around, for only 200 pesos. I tipped big.
Chapala
Ah, what a beautiful place.
Chapala is a city of about 15,000 located on Lake Chapala, the biggest lake in Mexico, and serves as kind of a hub for all the small towns around it, many of them filled with Canadian and American retirees. Much like visiting a city like San Francisco, the inherrent architecture of the city, and Mexico itself, means that even the dumpiest casa look awesome to me. I mean, come on:
The town really changes between the quiet weekday afternoons, and the crush of visitors from Guadalajara on the weekends. I'm spending all my time with Dad and Yvonne, playing volleyball, eating, drinking, and catching sun. I'm very very happy, and finally being able to connect with my father is a beautiful moment in my life. I guess our bonding culminated last night when we got smashed on tequila, broke a wall, smoked cigars and talked until the wee hours of the morning. Then I drunkingly did my sonly duty and dragged his ass up the stairs to bed, before promptly falling asleep on the bathroom floor. Thats what I call a family tradition.
Going horseback riding tomorrow, and then I'll get a Chapala photo album up and going. Lots of postcards going out to all of you, but it's expensive so it's taking a while. I miss everyone, all of you across Canada who have been breaking my heart with so much affection and good wishes. To be honest it is getting very hard to travel, but I'll worry about that later.
Hasta Luego,
Nick
It's been a while since I've put together anything formative in this space, and while most often it is my leinent life that provides stale news, that is so very not the case these days. My writing of late has been a bit drab, so I'll try to pick it up a bit, but be forewarned there is so much I'm going to be talking about.
Headspace
Well I've been here in Mexico for not even 6 days now, and whether it is the heat or the saturation of pleasure, the days drip by slowly. I landed in Puerto Vallarta after flying in from LAX where I was totally overcome with an ignorant and yet undenyable hatred of the States. I'm sure that half of the bleached blondes flitting between chain stores were Canadian, but to my eyes, and without the moral burden of being a foreign guest, every animal in that cage echoed deadened eyes. I was anxious to enter a country of my own choosing, where I could encapsulate myself with the essential humility and respect owing a visitor. I'm not sure what the point of that story was, but I found it interesting at the time the contrast I was given between the normal judgmental mindset common in our own mental backyards, and the fresh optimism radiated from the unknown.
Hasta la victoria Gringo
Puerto Vallarta however, was a flashpoint slap in the face to my own nieve travelling origins. I had always considered my trip across Canada to be a warm-up lap, a chance to experience and survive the challenge of a new life, without the harsh daily realties of being a foreigner. To that end my journey was mainly successful, as I am a little weathered to the basic emotional elements of travelling. There are the somewhat crushing moments of weighty loneliness found in every strange room, or the ever-present jubilation at each unseen sunset and unknown terrace, these feelings are the same for me no matter the place. The real challenges were those which we can foresee, but only overcome with effort and determination. Ignorance, mainly.
Ola, me llamo Stupid
There was a big football game on Sunday afternoon when I arrived, and the money exchanges were all closed early. This meant that I had absolutely no pesos, no language, and no way to get my bus to Guadalajara. The airport terminal was filled with a hawking of wares and soliciting of tourists I had never experienced, leaving me quiet and overwhelmed. I passed by what I thought was a hotel room selling command-center, only to realize in retrospect that it was the visitor information, a mistake that could have saved me quite a lot of stress and money. (And adventure)
It does not take much to strip away one's social armament, and I stood obviously clueless and lost amidst an ever dwindling tourist stream. I grabbed a taxi to the bus station, hoping to find an open exchange, and was promptly hosed on the fare. It was a poor decision to head off without assurity, and when I got to the station I found no exchanges, but more so a complete lack of English. I don't mean for my surprise to sound ethnocentric, I am fully aware I have left my home country, but seeing as the station was just a quick jaunt from the airport, in a major tourist mecca, I thought more of the service staff would be able to help. No luck.
God I look back at that moment and hate myself, my complete and total ignorance. I look back at the fragments of that ignorance that I sorround myself with daily, and hate what I represent, the disrespect. There are a lot of vows made every day that I will never allow myself to be so unprepared as a traveller, although the reality of a trip is that sometimes that may be unavoidable. I guess I'll just have to work my hardest, or once more go through this daily gauntlet of humiliation.
Anyways, intensity aside, I found an amazing cab driver who spoke a little English, and he drove me all around the city for almost an hour on an arthurian quest for an open money exchange. Keep in mind that it was 7:00 pm on a Sunday, and doors were closing as fast as we could find them. One thing happened though that I felt was very peculiar:
It took no more than ten minutes in the company of a seemingly trustworthy person for me to completely forsake all iotas of travelling common sense and wisdom. I managed to commit both of the cardinal sins:
Left my backpack, with everything inside, unattended in the cab several times.
Removed giant wad of cash from pocket in public.
I suppose I was so damn relieved to have someone who was helping me that I just didn't feel like being smart at all, and just needed to put all my faith in humanity to the test. I won't say I was lucky that my driver was an honest man, I don't think that it is a lucky thing to assume people are good and trust them, but it certainly was the dumbest thing I could do. All in all, we found an exchange, and he dropped me off at the bus station, after almost an hour of driving around, for only 200 pesos. I tipped big.
Chapala
Ah, what a beautiful place.
Chapala is a city of about 15,000 located on Lake Chapala, the biggest lake in Mexico, and serves as kind of a hub for all the small towns around it, many of them filled with Canadian and American retirees. Much like visiting a city like San Francisco, the inherrent architecture of the city, and Mexico itself, means that even the dumpiest casa look awesome to me. I mean, come on:The town really changes between the quiet weekday afternoons, and the crush of visitors from Guadalajara on the weekends. I'm spending all my time with Dad and Yvonne, playing volleyball, eating, drinking, and catching sun. I'm very very happy, and finally being able to connect with my father is a beautiful moment in my life. I guess our bonding culminated last night when we got smashed on tequila, broke a wall, smoked cigars and talked until the wee hours of the morning. Then I drunkingly did my sonly duty and dragged his ass up the stairs to bed, before promptly falling asleep on the bathroom floor. Thats what I call a family tradition.
Going horseback riding tomorrow, and then I'll get a Chapala photo album up and going. Lots of postcards going out to all of you, but it's expensive so it's taking a while. I miss everyone, all of you across Canada who have been breaking my heart with so much affection and good wishes. To be honest it is getting very hard to travel, but I'll worry about that later.
Hasta Luego,
Nick
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Spontaneous Inflammation - May 24 2007
Ola Muchachos,
I'm here in blistering hot Chapala, with every conceivable cooling device blasting away as I try to type before the spacebar melts into my hands.
Actually, it's too bloody hot. I'll write tonight about all the adventure when the sun goes down and the devil stops branding me.
I'm here in blistering hot Chapala, with every conceivable cooling device blasting away as I try to type before the spacebar melts into my hands.
Actually, it's too bloody hot. I'll write tonight about all the adventure when the sun goes down and the devil stops branding me.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Life as a constant - May 16th, 2007
Well,
Certainly has taken a while to find the time and space to write a little about what is going on with me right now. Which is a ton.
First of all for anyone who remembers how amazing life was out here in Vancouver last summer, nothing has changed. Still running ragged with Teresa and De everyday and everynight. Beaches, bottles, boats and bruises leave no time for boredom. Vancouver is as close to eden as I think most of us will find on this planet, and it makes me explode with happiness everyday I see the sun rising on the mountains or setting in the harbor.
Anyways, Big News, going to Melbourne on June 9th. Super excited but my work load has gotten quite mature and adminish. Not so much sun, more so computer screens. Argh.
My cousin Julie is dropping in from Whistler on Saturday so I'm looking forward to either making her a nice dinner or crawling blurry-eyed down Granville street.
Flying south to Mexico on either Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday. Spend a couple of weeks with my dad and get to know him again, then flying back up here for a couple days before Australia.
What can I say? Life is very busy and exciting, and maybe that means my posting becomes bland and boring. I'll find some experiences to write about, instead of an itinerary of my activities. Until then thanks for popping in, and I'll speak to you all soon.
Nick
Certainly has taken a while to find the time and space to write a little about what is going on with me right now. Which is a ton.
First of all for anyone who remembers how amazing life was out here in Vancouver last summer, nothing has changed. Still running ragged with Teresa and De everyday and everynight. Beaches, bottles, boats and bruises leave no time for boredom. Vancouver is as close to eden as I think most of us will find on this planet, and it makes me explode with happiness everyday I see the sun rising on the mountains or setting in the harbor.
Anyways, Big News, going to Melbourne on June 9th. Super excited but my work load has gotten quite mature and adminish. Not so much sun, more so computer screens. Argh.
My cousin Julie is dropping in from Whistler on Saturday so I'm looking forward to either making her a nice dinner or crawling blurry-eyed down Granville street.
Flying south to Mexico on either Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday. Spend a couple of weeks with my dad and get to know him again, then flying back up here for a couple days before Australia.
What can I say? Life is very busy and exciting, and maybe that means my posting becomes bland and boring. I'll find some experiences to write about, instead of an itinerary of my activities. Until then thanks for popping in, and I'll speak to you all soon.
Nick
Monday, May 7, 2007
One Sweet Year - May 8th, 2007
Well well, looks like I'm about to hit the old 24. "Old" being the main word there.
Just a quick note while I notice how amazing my life has been this last year. I celebrated my last birthday in Whitehorse, with an awesome package from my family in the heat of the Oiler's playoff run (I know, I'm not supposed to mention it), under the gaze of the ever-flowing sun. In fact, if I recall correctly I ended up in a garbage dump, check the old blog to see, it's actually quite an amazing story.
Anywho, after Whitehorse came Shambhala, then Vancouver, then Halifax, then Montreal, Toronto, and St.John's, and now Vancouver again. Whooooo. Now that's a well lived 365 days in my books.
When I left for the road I know it seemed abrupt and crazy. I certainly knew that as I stood at the side of the elersley exchange in Edmonton waiting for a ride to who knows where. But I had felt the weight of three wasted years upon me so heavy I felt running/travelling was the only way to be alive. And it has worked, regardless of the down times that necessarily came with life without a home.
So it's been 2 and a 1/2 years of sweet life, days filled with exhilaration and wonder. I am happy to be a year older, not wiser, but well spent.
Happy 24th birthday to me, but 25 is looking sweeter and sweeter every day,
Nick
Friday, May 4, 2007
Farewell to Nova Scotia - May 4th
Heyo,
Before I start writing at length about my life back on the road, it's important I take the hard time needed to say goodbye to my life back east. It's always something I postpone, as it makes me dig out thoughts that no one in your new home will think to ask.
It's not easy to sum up everything that happened in the last nine months either, but I owe it to all my friends back home.
Halifax.
I came to Hali after a couple of incredible weeks in Vancouver in September of last year. That night at a potluck at Becca's house (The Aerie) I was lucky enough to meet my boss and the wonderful woman who would become one of my greatest supporters in life. Sarah of course didn't know this at the time, so she practically kicked in the front door and demanded to know where all the booze and smokes were. Of course I hastilly add for Sarah's pride, she was right lickered (more so than I have ever seen since), and had just got to say farewell to a cosmic love interest forever. Barring that however, there is no denying one of the most epic drunk moments I have ever had the pleasure to witness, coupled with some group hugs soaked in tears and a very long argument that sounded a lot like this:
Nick: "Sarah, can I crash at your place for the next few weeks while I look for a place?"
Sarah: "Fuck me, another one? I'm just kidding, yeah yeah, you can stay."
Nick:"Awesome, thanks."
Sarah: "Where are you sleeping tonight?
Nick: "The hostel"
Sarah: "Fuck no. No no no. You can crash at my place."
Nick: "No, that's cool. I'm at the hostel."
Sarah: "No way, Fuck. It's scary there. Crash on my couch."
Nick: "No, that's cool. I'll just spend tonight at the hostel."
Sarah: "Fuck you. I'm your boss, you're not staying at the hostel."
Nick: "Ummm. Yah, that's cool. I'm just gonna go sleep at the hostel."
Sarah: "You sonofabitch. Come here, I'll fight you. Fucker. Fuck. Where's all the booze? You said there'd be booze."
(Okay, so the last line wasn't so very true, but the rest certainly was.)
Anyways, now that Sarah will never forgive me for telling an oft-told story of our first, illustrious wine-soaked meeting, I'll move on to the rest of my time.
Corey was one of the first dear friends I made in Hali, which was in tradition with my travelling luck at meeting incredible people with beautiful souls. It was with complete rapture that I roped him into living with me at our now famous domicile, Nimh. Corey, I know by now you have read the letter I left you and understand how much you changed my life. I need say little more to describe that gift than to tell you that just this morning I screamed Your Song by Elton at the top of my lungs walking down Hastings Street. That shit never leaves you. Thank you so much man.
Work at PO continued to be life fulfilling in a way no other job has done for me. The very nature of our task was to spread good and loveliness through the world, and fight off apathy, despair, and misery. Not bad, and made better by my rapid rise in our office that allowed me to throw everything I had at the cause. Through PO I met some of the raddest mofos of my life, and I won't go through the chain of names cause it's lame, but I will single out one man, Nathan Eliot-Doucet, as being the single greatest loser I have ever met in my life. The gift he gave me was that I finally came to terms with how cool I am, and how important it is to never drop your babies on the floor. Yikes.
Ian arrived in November, and although his company was, and continues to be, a balm for my heart, things did not exactly go as planned. The next two months sucked very very hard. And most important I need to apologize with great passion to N and L for putting up with me when I should have been a better man to them. I'm sorry that everything turned out like it did for us, things were weird and dangerous in my head.
Well, anyways, since then life has been exemplary, a beautiful mix of all my life's elements. At home I had Nimh, the single greatest testament to domestic life I have ever seen. A mansion on the 'Gric, bordered by a liquor store and a coffee shop. Sun in, sun out, the days rose and fell with dancing and music. Dinner parties became common, long talks into the night mandatory. The introduction of Clare into my life, no matter how near the end of my time in Halifax, was a gift. If ever I have seen two personalities dangerously akin it would be with her. Ferocious high fives huh Clare?
At the same time Sarah was busy with the little stuff, like patching my family together, getting my life on track, and pushing me to succeed in facilties I had never attempted. I have said, and will a million times, that without her I may still have been the shattered boy from months past. So that's the big stuff, but the thousands of little moments in every day we spent together are what made us friends. Drunken, drunken friends. I owe you a lot, and I miss you far more.
So yah, life was great, got a surprise trip to Newfoundland with Sarah and Nick Lachance right at the end to really make it hard to leave. Man Nick you were amazing that weekend. I have never seen you less worried about life's problems and yet more inflamed with the dynamism of your personality. Just stop sweating the small stuff man, you're like a brother to me.
I don't even know if I'll be back to the east coast in a few weeks, so I'm ready to have egg on my face. But even then I think I'll be mostly up in St. John's, without time to say all this anyway. The east coast is incredible. I had amazing infused into me at countless costume parties, coffee shops, indie rock shows, classy dinner soirees and drunken crawls home. The music of the streets and the music of my house, the songs we all brought in our pockets to dinner and breakfast. Early days lit with battered sun on the rocky shores, late nights of eclipsed moons on citadel hill, these are the hours I lived my fullest.
The gift of travelling is this, the unreal swarm of beauty you are suddenly allowed to notice and thank in every place you find it. The walks in sun dappled streets where you can turn to your friend or yourself and say "wow", and take a deep breath. The freedom to scratch every surface and suck every single inch out of your life. You are allowed to never be content.
The burden is this, a lonely blog entry and a thousand stupid words, when a single pint at Charlie's would say it all. The burden is this, the loneliness and ache as you push away those you have grasped so close, the tears in airports and highways.
This life is not a blessed one, I know now, it has been years on the road for me, and it never gets easier. It is only the promise I have never heard spoken that it can only get better. In the next town, the next face, the future slashed open down the middle, ready to run screaming into. I can only hope this is the right choice, because I have abandoned all too much for one life for this to be wrong.
I move on now through Vancouver, down these sunny green streets, awash in a love I almost forgot I had. I pace waiting for Ian to arrive and complete the perfecta. De and T are watching out for me, and I hope to pull off this trip to Mexico financially. Regardless, life goes on, but not so much seeping, much more so breathing. Deeply.
I love you all. Thank you.
Nick
Cheesy P.S. Notes
Becca, I once answered you by looking into your eyes. Do you remember that? That is what I would say now, and will say to you for the rest of our lives.
Corey, you and I will see each other sooner than we think. Prepare an island for me, I'll bring the tea and the sunrise. I don't know how to tell you how I miss you, so I hope you just get it.
P.P.S. This is how my day went today:
Before I start writing at length about my life back on the road, it's important I take the hard time needed to say goodbye to my life back east. It's always something I postpone, as it makes me dig out thoughts that no one in your new home will think to ask.
It's not easy to sum up everything that happened in the last nine months either, but I owe it to all my friends back home.
Halifax.
I came to Hali after a couple of incredible weeks in Vancouver in September of last year. That night at a potluck at Becca's house (The Aerie) I was lucky enough to meet my boss and the wonderful woman who would become one of my greatest supporters in life. Sarah of course didn't know this at the time, so she practically kicked in the front door and demanded to know where all the booze and smokes were. Of course I hastilly add for Sarah's pride, she was right lickered (more so than I have ever seen since), and had just got to say farewell to a cosmic love interest forever. Barring that however, there is no denying one of the most epic drunk moments I have ever had the pleasure to witness, coupled with some group hugs soaked in tears and a very long argument that sounded a lot like this:
Nick: "Sarah, can I crash at your place for the next few weeks while I look for a place?"
Sarah: "Fuck me, another one? I'm just kidding, yeah yeah, you can stay."
Nick:"Awesome, thanks."
Sarah: "Where are you sleeping tonight?
Nick: "The hostel"
Sarah: "Fuck no. No no no. You can crash at my place."
Nick: "No, that's cool. I'm at the hostel."
Sarah: "No way, Fuck. It's scary there. Crash on my couch."
Nick: "No, that's cool. I'll just spend tonight at the hostel."
Sarah: "Fuck you. I'm your boss, you're not staying at the hostel."
Nick: "Ummm. Yah, that's cool. I'm just gonna go sleep at the hostel."
Sarah: "You sonofabitch. Come here, I'll fight you. Fucker. Fuck. Where's all the booze? You said there'd be booze."
(Okay, so the last line wasn't so very true, but the rest certainly was.)
Anyways, now that Sarah will never forgive me for telling an oft-told story of our first, illustrious wine-soaked meeting, I'll move on to the rest of my time.
Corey was one of the first dear friends I made in Hali, which was in tradition with my travelling luck at meeting incredible people with beautiful souls. It was with complete rapture that I roped him into living with me at our now famous domicile, Nimh. Corey, I know by now you have read the letter I left you and understand how much you changed my life. I need say little more to describe that gift than to tell you that just this morning I screamed Your Song by Elton at the top of my lungs walking down Hastings Street. That shit never leaves you. Thank you so much man.
Work at PO continued to be life fulfilling in a way no other job has done for me. The very nature of our task was to spread good and loveliness through the world, and fight off apathy, despair, and misery. Not bad, and made better by my rapid rise in our office that allowed me to throw everything I had at the cause. Through PO I met some of the raddest mofos of my life, and I won't go through the chain of names cause it's lame, but I will single out one man, Nathan Eliot-Doucet, as being the single greatest loser I have ever met in my life. The gift he gave me was that I finally came to terms with how cool I am, and how important it is to never drop your babies on the floor. Yikes.
Ian arrived in November, and although his company was, and continues to be, a balm for my heart, things did not exactly go as planned. The next two months sucked very very hard. And most important I need to apologize with great passion to N and L for putting up with me when I should have been a better man to them. I'm sorry that everything turned out like it did for us, things were weird and dangerous in my head.
Well, anyways, since then life has been exemplary, a beautiful mix of all my life's elements. At home I had Nimh, the single greatest testament to domestic life I have ever seen. A mansion on the 'Gric, bordered by a liquor store and a coffee shop. Sun in, sun out, the days rose and fell with dancing and music. Dinner parties became common, long talks into the night mandatory. The introduction of Clare into my life, no matter how near the end of my time in Halifax, was a gift. If ever I have seen two personalities dangerously akin it would be with her. Ferocious high fives huh Clare?
At the same time Sarah was busy with the little stuff, like patching my family together, getting my life on track, and pushing me to succeed in facilties I had never attempted. I have said, and will a million times, that without her I may still have been the shattered boy from months past. So that's the big stuff, but the thousands of little moments in every day we spent together are what made us friends. Drunken, drunken friends. I owe you a lot, and I miss you far more.
So yah, life was great, got a surprise trip to Newfoundland with Sarah and Nick Lachance right at the end to really make it hard to leave. Man Nick you were amazing that weekend. I have never seen you less worried about life's problems and yet more inflamed with the dynamism of your personality. Just stop sweating the small stuff man, you're like a brother to me.
I don't even know if I'll be back to the east coast in a few weeks, so I'm ready to have egg on my face. But even then I think I'll be mostly up in St. John's, without time to say all this anyway. The east coast is incredible. I had amazing infused into me at countless costume parties, coffee shops, indie rock shows, classy dinner soirees and drunken crawls home. The music of the streets and the music of my house, the songs we all brought in our pockets to dinner and breakfast. Early days lit with battered sun on the rocky shores, late nights of eclipsed moons on citadel hill, these are the hours I lived my fullest.
The gift of travelling is this, the unreal swarm of beauty you are suddenly allowed to notice and thank in every place you find it. The walks in sun dappled streets where you can turn to your friend or yourself and say "wow", and take a deep breath. The freedom to scratch every surface and suck every single inch out of your life. You are allowed to never be content.
The burden is this, a lonely blog entry and a thousand stupid words, when a single pint at Charlie's would say it all. The burden is this, the loneliness and ache as you push away those you have grasped so close, the tears in airports and highways.
This life is not a blessed one, I know now, it has been years on the road for me, and it never gets easier. It is only the promise I have never heard spoken that it can only get better. In the next town, the next face, the future slashed open down the middle, ready to run screaming into. I can only hope this is the right choice, because I have abandoned all too much for one life for this to be wrong.
I move on now through Vancouver, down these sunny green streets, awash in a love I almost forgot I had. I pace waiting for Ian to arrive and complete the perfecta. De and T are watching out for me, and I hope to pull off this trip to Mexico financially. Regardless, life goes on, but not so much seeping, much more so breathing. Deeply.
I love you all. Thank you.
Nick
Cheesy P.S. Notes
Becca, I once answered you by looking into your eyes. Do you remember that? That is what I would say now, and will say to you for the rest of our lives.
Corey, you and I will see each other sooner than we think. Prepare an island for me, I'll bring the tea and the sunrise. I don't know how to tell you how I miss you, so I hope you just get it.
P.P.S. This is how my day went today:
Thousands of Kilometres - May 4th
Hey!
I'm in Vancouver again, something of a shock though, I hope that it doesn't wear off. I am so far behind on the photo album and blog posts, but hopefully today I'll find some time at a cheap cafe on Davie and catch up.
Just really wanted to put up a note saying I miss you guys in Halifax a lot and thanks for shooting so much love at me the last few days of my time there.
I'm all safe and sound Sarah, I'll call tonight.
Nick
I'm in Vancouver again, something of a shock though, I hope that it doesn't wear off. I am so far behind on the photo album and blog posts, but hopefully today I'll find some time at a cheap cafe on Davie and catch up.
Just really wanted to put up a note saying I miss you guys in Halifax a lot and thanks for shooting so much love at me the last few days of my time there.
I'm all safe and sound Sarah, I'll call tonight.
Nick
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