Scottsdale, Arizona - "My whole life is a delicate cycle"

Two and a half months ago I sat in this spot with God knows what ahead of me. In about twelve hours I start my long journey home. I say long, long in terms of modern aviation, but not actually long. And so I come to reflect, as one does, on all that I've done, those I've met and every piece of fleeting imagination I keep alive in memory. I feel I've reached conclusions about myself, my opinions and perceptions of things have certainly evolved since I've bee out here. I find myself thinking I've gotta be careful when I get back; make sure I don't slip back into old habits that had been broken. But then I catch myself. Senseless worrying about that, senseless thinking like that; as long as I'm aware of myself then things should just be left to play out.

By the time you read this I'll be home and I may well have already seen and caught up with you, whoever you maybe, so what else is there left to say?

I guess it's common place for people in my situation to call these trips life changing, travelling, constantly seeing new things, meeting new people. The core of it I imagine is being away from home, family out on your own more then ever before. I think for a lot of people, and I don't discount myself from this, that certainly constitutes the label of life changing, however melodramatic that may sound. Lets be real; everything we do is life changing. Every action, word, thought, is life changing. If I hadn't chosen to sit here and write this I may have gone for a walk, been hit by and been hit by a car. Or I may have eaten a strawberry, got red on the white shirt I'm wearing and subsequently devote twenty minutes to cleaning it off, twenty minutes that could have been spent writing, could been spent in thought, could have lead to some deep revelation which would go on to change my life. So in a sense the whole life changing thing, kind of a moot point.

Now there's one stream of thought that occurred to me early on out here and has been mentioned by me fairly persistently throughout these ramblings. The idea of my own ignorance and the need to realise how stupid I actually am. I've talked about this a lot, or at least it feels like I have, so I won't discuss the idea itself here. I have tried to constantly bear this line of thought in mind when entering discussions and conversations out here. When I feel I've successfully kept it in mind I've become open and perceptive to those I'm talking to and feel I've truly advance my knowledge after discussion as a result.

The real test for this attitude of opennes, come with every discussion I had with a wonderful friend of mine. A guy I spent around seven to ten days with in San Francisco, not in that way, someone who was really the perfect conversational partner for me. He was of a similar political persuasion and was always willing to enter into debate about a subject. I truly feel that one the greatest things I got out here were the conversations we had. So we would debate and he would never fail to shoot me down if he disagreed with me, which at first kind of shocked me. It would always lead to brilliant exchanges of information and various perspectives. One time we entered debate on a particular subject and I got extremely riled up as it was something I have rarely been truly challenged on and was thus fairly well convinced of. I got almost angry from the fact he was stumping me with his arguments but after about ten minutes I forced myself to relax, breathe and be fully open to the arguments he was presenting. Looking back on that subject now, I'm not as convinced as I once was but beyond that I've gained an entirely new perspective, something of truly great value.

This guy was four of five years my senior, a fact he was surprised to learn, but speaking with him, someone who is so well read and knowledgeable yet still very humble in his opinions was incredibly humbling for me. Being able to share the time we did together and the conversations we had, conversations where you really felt your ideas and perceptions changing and evolving as you learn from each other was truly phenomenal. From on perspective it's almost like having that idea at the beginning of the trip, I slowly implemented it throughout my travels and dealings with people until it culminated in being able to have these amazing invaluable conversations.

One last point I wanted to make on the whole knowledge/debating issue is about sitting on the fence. Now of course they will be an inherent bias, me being the annoying opinionated fucker that I am, but hey.

So in light of this concept of being aware of ignorance how can we ever pick a side if we don't feel we know all we can about the subject or indeed will every know all we can. I think as human beings who are endowed with logic and rationality it is our duty to use these abilities in search of truth. (Worth noting that this theory doesn't stand if you believe human beings are fundamentally irrational.) In doing this we take all the knowledge we have and make a judgement based upon it. The key to this exercise being valid is having an openness and a willing to admit when we're wrong and thereby being constantly able to reassess and re - examine our judgement in the presence of new information and perspectives. It is this openness that is the hardest part as we are made to feel that being wrong is a bad thing. When in face being wrong, really is marvelous as it allows us to be more knowledgeable and closer to truth then we ever before. (It's also worth noting that this theory also relies on truth being a priority, which I do believe we naturally allude to.) It's not about whats right, it's about what's true. Oh and of course I'm aware of the potential impossibility of the notion of truth. Yet I think in spite of this being the case I think aiming for it and striving towards it is still the only way to go.

San Francisco - "You can't see California without Marlon Brando's eyes"

There seems to be memories that either run in slow motion, or else they don't run at all. People talk about the terror of a scream, the horror of the raw, spontaneous excursion of fear through the vocal chords. Now maybe I've listened to too much heavy metal music and thus find in a scream a sort of melody and not so much fear. A long, sustained, scream doesn't scare me. It's the cracking in that pitch that does it, it's the vocal desecration of that melody. That's what's scary. Not when a grown man is forced to scream, but when a grown man struggles to scream. When all that can escape between the giant panic breathes and audible sobs of "I'm sorry, I love you, I'm so sorry" is that high pitched panic yelp, akin to a little girl running from the worm in the garden, that noise that knocks on the door of the sound barrier. When a grown man is fighting for air, professing love and apology as if standing at the feet of a wrathful God ready to exact judgement, it's then the voice gets loud and gets volatile and cracks and breaks like a banshee being drowned, like a dog being tortured, like a little girl being raped. That's when a scream is scary. When it stops being a scream; it's terrifying.

In slow motion every action however innocuous takes on renewed significance. The head turns on the pillow, the arm follows, body rolls and then that non - scream hits. With a sudden defiance you open your eyes wide as if commanding the dream to stop, you regain control and in the split second where you peel back your eye lids you say to yourself "Silence! I am awake, I am in control, hush now." In the seconds that proceed lifetimes pass, the pounding in your chest quickens as you realise that the euphoric relief you expected upon the opening of your eyes is trapped underneath the eyelids. Although you would never admit it there's the part of you that still thinks this isn't real, this part of you needs confirmation and relentlessly the eyes that failed to bring you release once already try again to save your mind. It's then that you meet the eye of the girl in your dorm, her bed adjacent to yours and you see from her wide eyes that they too failed to stop the screaming. It's real.

Over the course of the next hour your eyes relinquish control to your ears. Three realities can he heard outside your door. The broken scream writhing on the floor. The drunken brother trying to calm him. The police and fireman trying to keep this grounded in some rational protocol. very so often the three entities blur into glorious chaos as the volume explodes then vanishes and those following logical procedure are forced to abandon it for their own safety.

"Adam stop it!" - "Get off me! It hurts!" - "I know it hurts Adam, I know it hurts," - "Give him the shot!" - "..." - "Just give him the goddamn shot, knock him out!"

Distinguishing the different characters becomes a task of deduction that uses the dialogue spoken as all voices become on in the dense fog of confusion.

And so it plays out like a soap opera about domestic abuse interwoven with grind house sound bites. so ugly you can't stop looking, so harrowing you can't stop listening. Once you open yourself to the scene you need closure. Closure finally comes when all the breathing is of the same volume and at that resting rate of seventy beats per minute. The hardest thing though is that you never really left that dream state. It's still dark with only the vague flicker of street light pushing against the window and ultimately you were never really awake, almost as if that wide eyed pop earlier failed to you to consciousness at all.

So the rest of the night you're rolling it round in your head. Stuck in Neverland (that places between asleep and awake) persistently reliving the hour in various speeds of slow motion.

San Francisco - "Burn it down gwenevieve and take a shower in it's ashes"

Feel like I haven't written in forever so here's a random stream of consciousness on whatever comes to mind.

Never fails to stagger me how much of a profound effect my dreams have on my mood. This happened to me this morning when I woke up, allow me to elaborate. I was having a very intense emotional dream, in which there was much passionate revelation a subsequent sobbing of a large proportion, think Shakespearean tragedy, performed in Shakespeare's time. So some seriously over - hyped shit. So in the dream I'm sharing a good intense cry with someone, I think this is when I woke up, that or the dream ended and I can't remember what followed it.

As I went about my morning this feeling, a knot in the pit of my stomach - more comparable to despair then anything else, was apparent. Quickly I ignored this and proceeded to lose myself in Middle Earth, (reading the Fellowship Of The Ring for the first time) and disregard this strange emotion. Continued my morning bullshit and went for a run. Whilst running I thought over this strange feeling hard and went over the dream that had caused it, in doing so the emotion swelled inside me and took a greater grasp on me then it had done in the previous hours. I felt physically choked up and felt my chest weigh upon me as it does before one yields to tears. Forcing myself to combat this with harsh swallows and conscious efforts to disregard what I was thinking about, I completed my run without shedding a tear.

Now maybe this experience is just me and of course there is a whole wealth of deductions and speculations that can be made with regard to the direct events that took place in the dream, which I don't care to divulge right now and the context of my life as it is right now. But this isn't the first time this strange emotional transcendence from dream to waking reality has happened to me. I suppose the core point on which I'm falling is the questioning of the real how something like emotion and experience can transcend the boundary from sleep to wake and thus real to unreal.

Little Italy, San Francisco - "You're not dead, you're no where near it"

What is to follow will probably read as both obvious and cliche, but it's going to be truthful,it's honesty should be seen as the main goal of the following entry above any main goal of discussion or meditation.

I'm reaching the end of my time here, less then three weeks until I return home and among everything I've discovered out here, whether about myself or the world in general, it is the simple notion of "home" that I feel to be the greatest self discovery. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to come back spouting notions of how ridiculous the IS is whilst waving a union jack, sipping on some earl grey and watching Royal Wedding highlights. When I say home, I mean it detached from geography and all that said geography would imply.

The notion of home has reared it's head because of that which I took for granted, the things so small and everyday they fall out of the regular field of consciousness. Things like food, having meals cooked for me and slowly realising how precious that is! Things like family, by this I don't just mean relatives but my friends as well, those who I frequently refer to as my brothers and sisters. I miss them in the direct sense of being with them, but I also miss the assurance that they're only a train ride away. There was a strange comfort about being in a place, a town for so long. Sure sometimes it would get monotonous but it's nice to be able to go out and without fail see people you know. Nice to be able to know exactly how and where to go to get something done, nice to go to your local cafe for lunch, where they always charge you a little bit less for the quarter pounder with cheese and chips.

So it is that as I grow more accustomed to this travelling thing that I draw closer to it's end. I think I look forward to returning so, because I won't have the need to be as constrained financially as before leaving, where I was saving for travel, and will thus be able to do all that I wished to do before but couldn't. It's gonna be fantastic to see all the scholars who'll be home over summer. And when I'm settled back in and boredom ensues as summer dwindles into the past I'll be heading off to uni myself, a whole new adventure as it were.

When I get home I intend to try and sustain this new frame of reference as best I can, this new appreciation for all the I'm truly lucky to have; an incredible family, both relatives and friends, and a summer full of potential for friends, music, road trips, hanging out in Brighton and hanging out wrestling with my little bro. Don't worry I'm sure this strange positivity and optimism won't last too long, though best to write it down whilst it gripped me.

See you all soon,
Tom

The Green Tortoise Hostel, San Francisco - "You're bending rules like they've never even been written"

My third day in San Francisco and I'm completely captivated, every time I walk around in this city my imagination is set a flame. The beautiful architecture of the city's buildings is so cosmopolitan, once can walk 5 blocks and they'd flown across 5 countries.

I'm afraid I'm drawn to this lack of knowledge concept yet again, as I feel it here whenever I step out into the street, it's incredible. San Fran is steeped in history and character. Not 2 minutes down the road from where I'm residing for the next 3 weeks is City Lights book store. Which was very influential in exposing and publishing the work of the beat poets. A generation of artists who dared to push boundaries and challenge the status quo - truly very sixties, walking around the store I felt a real sense of history, right here an artistic evolution took place. Surronded by books of such variety, ones you'd never find in the mainstream book store, with the face of Walt Witman pasted on one wall and a smiling photo of Allen Ginsberg on the other, simple messages of politics and philosophy chalked in between shelves, this place really draws me in. The books that surround me let me know "you've got the basics of the beat generation, of poetry, politics, philosophy, but you've simply dipped your toe in an ocean.

This same feeling returned as I got lost in China town.This community consists of many shops which are exclusively Chinese, where the owners speak very little English and all the signage is in Mandarin. Looking through the shops here I was overcome with that sense of wonder I get when watching a Chinese martial arts epic...where everything, and I do mean everything is completely different to what I know. Culture, style, language, history and this didn't serve me well in separating the tat from the valuable items in the China town stores. The toe in the ocean metaphor is most definitely applicable here. When I'm walking around and I find something, an object say, decorated beautifully, crafted with incredible skill, but I have no clue what it does my mind is set racing again and I love this sense of mystery. The whole far east Asian culture is so enigmatic to me and this gives it such awesome appeal.

Today City Lights book store still continues to not only publish and put out great literature but hold events to give a live forum to the artists of alternative schools of thought. So it was that this evening I sat in a small, intimate upstairs area of the book store, where members of the beat generation bared their souls and I listened to some poetry from the politically conscious of today. An event in honour of the release of the artist's journal "Left Curve". Which deals with the artists place and their expression in a post modern, consumerist world, where the vast majority of people would rather watch TV then think about philosophy or politics, even wider society in general. Currently I'm reading HG Wells novel "The Time Machine", I mention this because one of the presenters of this evening made me feel that I had indeed traveled through time, back to the sixties, where a group were threatening to push to boundaries of society's consciousness outwards beyond the institutions and doctrines which had erected walls around them. The room was half dark, an old style projector, click, flick, clicked into life behind us and showed a short black and white film, accompanied by a live reading of poetry and a live musical score on guitar, it was made easy to transcend from this time and place to a space in history we so often wish for.

Out here is very much a literal case of up one hill and down another over and over again. Which leaves you feeling often disorientated, but that ceases to matter every time you reach the top, catch your breath and look at the view that sprawls out in front of you.

San Diego - "I hope to God I get five minutes in heaven before the devil knows I'm dead"

I wrote before about knowledge and how I've come to terms with how little I actually know, I want to talk about this again from a slightly different perspective.

In the US they have what are called "Thrift stores", which are essentially fuck off big charity shops. Being a charity shop they obviously sell books, all the ones I've purchased have ranged in price fro 50 cents to no more then 2 bucks. So far I've accumulated probably around 25 books of various types. Books on philosophy, politics, drugs, the works of Homer, literary classics, Books on theatre, many various topics. I find myself working through them at an average pace of probably around a book every 3 days. I'm finding I simply can't read enough, I can't gain enough information and I'm loving it, I'm just loving the process of learning, which makes a nice change from my school days.

With this increased access to knowledge and the increased amount of knowledge I'm gaining I find this great impulse to be more creative. To write more regardless of whether it be prose or poetry, fiction or non - fiction. However part of me thinks it would be wrong of me to write about a particular topic, as part of this learning process seems to be that the more I learn, is accompanied with a realisation of how much more there is that I don't know.

The answer I'm moving towards is to let go of straight forward and direct ideas, to be more creative and to not try and tackle a specific topic just yet. Instead to write creatively and try and master the use of language to create emotion or imagery as opposed to direct theoretical points. To paraphrase Socrates (pronounced So-crates for those uninitiated in Bill and Ted) "The poets no know what they speak of, it is those who read it, who interpret it that draw the meaning".

Sorry if this was boring, just a small musing.

Rhys, Rhys Savage - RHHYYYSSSS

Rhys savage.

San Diego - "They say that in war that truth be the first casualty"

Tomorrow I fly out to San Francisco, my time in San Diego having officially come to an end. Casting the mind back over the last month, I'm considering how to summarise the whole experience, how do I view it?

I think the main thing I've done out here is see city close to how it really is, sure I've been through and done all the touristy shit and that's been great. But in staying here so long I've got to know the backstreets as it were. I've been able to appreciate small farmer's markets and the subtle architectural and cultural differences that occur as one diffuses outwards from the city centre. There are the little things that make home, home. In San Diego, I've found some of those, I know the best place for me to go for a walk where I can sit and write and take in the view. I know my favourite place to go and chill out in the middle of the day. I recognise some of the people that live around here. And although this may not seem like much, it's a nice experience to have, to feel that I know the city that little bit better then most tourists.

I'm stoked for San Francisco, having heard nothing but good things about it, sounds like a city with a great vibe all round. The hostel I'm staying in looks like a real sweet place to stay having been recommended to me by several different people. I'll be in San Francisco for three weeks from tomorrow, Tuesday the 26th April and I can't wait.

A coffee shop, San Diego - "We stepped into the wind he had a gun I had a gun, you think this story's over but it's ready to begin"

So I've been trying something new since I've been out here. In an effort to lose some weight and get generally fitter I've changed my diet and started working out. It started when I was at home. Where I figured a simple way to lose weight would be to eat no more then 3 meals a day and stop eating products simply for the sugar kick. Essentially not eating any refined sugar, no chocolate, cake, crisps, cake, pastries etc. After sticking to that for a while I combined it with a daily run. I just wanted to talk about how this whole weight issue has been for me over the past month and half/two months.

The positives then: An improvement in physical appearance. Feeling generally healthier. Regained physical fitness that was lost once I stopped playing sports regularly.

Issues with the whole thing: Clearly the criteria for what constitutes improved physical appearance is subjective and differs from person to person. The general consensus, what we are taught to think, is that a certain view of beauty is correct. Part of this is being slim. In trying to improve my physical appearance according to pre - approved guide lines of beauty am I selling myself out? Am I acknowledging that I think someone has to have a particular body shape to be attractive? When I don't consciously believe that to be the case? When I in face think it's wrong and shallow to judge someone to a large extent on physical appearance.

Perhaps it's a deeper self conscious part of me that worked it's way to the surface. If so does that worry have any rational grounding for me? As we can see from above it shouldn't do according to my own line of thought.

I'm stumped with this one. Yes I wanted to lose weight, so I'd feel more comfortable and confident in my physical appearance, not that this was ever an issue that actively effect my confidence in any major way.

This healthier life style is certainly and interesting experiment. One that I feel in many ways is only possible because of my current situation, within which I'm trying to save money and thus food that isn't necessary is discouraged due to financial constraints and the persistent working out is facilitated by the fact I have enough free time to do it.

All in all I do feel healthier in general which is most certainly a good thing, I also feel more confident in my physical appearance, I still can't decide whether or not this is a good thing, on the surface it clearly is but is it a result of me succumbing to societal pressures which are founded on conceptions designed to make us feel self conscious and as such are pressures which I should be striving to move above.

I think I'm gonna continue with this routine for the next month or so until I get home. Remembering to not be to strict with it as it's fundamentally not that important. Treating it not as a way of achieving a desired outcome other then being generally healthy. It'll most likely prove difficult to continue the exercise at home anyway. So after writing this, fuck all of a conclusion has been achieved.

I feel this is an interesting issue though, I know it's not that important as far as moral dilemmas go but still I think it's someone a lot of people experience.
Please add to the discussion on this either on here or via facebook, I'm curious to hear your thoughts as I'm very much on the fence at the moment :).

San Diego Zoo - "I can't fail the way I did before, don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored"

Yesterday I wound up at the San Diego Zoo, supposedly one of the best in the world. Truly it was fascinating, an incredibly eclectic array of animals lay within separated into sections according to the habitat they came from. Lining each pathway throughout the zoo are aviaries that hold birds of extraordinary colour and physical composition. Walking through, my mind and imagination were pulsing with wonder at just how beautiful nature could be. But whilst having my mind blow by the developments of nature I simultaneously felt very uncomfortable.

Animals caged for live human entertainment. I saw a beautiful leopard, pacing back and forth in front of me, it's eyes staring narrowly through the pane of glass separating me from being ripped apart. Back and forth. It was obvious this animal was distressed. An elephant standing completely still and rolling it's head from side to side, playing with it's trunk, it's eyes long since glazed over.

I started thinking about zoo animals and more commonly domesticated animals, house hold pets. Many similarities can be drawn. The main difference is that the pet gets more love and attention. Or at least we would expect it to whereas the logistics of running such a large operation with several animals would this extremely difficult.

We're left still with the argument of weather or not it's right to domesticate animals at all. If they receive enough positive physical and mental engagement, I think it can be justified.

I'm aware this post is very underdeveloped in terms of actual moral analysis. But it displays my instant reaction the whole situation.

From the edge of a pier, San Diego Marina - "You never know just what you have 'till it's gone over the rainbow"

If you're reading this then it's fair to say you know me. You'll be aware of the fact that I'll have an opinion on most matters of politics you can bring up and that I take great pleasure in sinking my teeth into any philosophical dilemma thrown my way. This, as you and I both know, is a fairly prevalent personality trait.

What I'm slowly coming to terms with however, is how little I actually do know. I think debating and arguing are wonderful ways to test and expand one's knowledge. However only if you're willing to admit defeat, to admit ignorance and concede that the idea you had undertaken as correct, is flawed.

I find myself trying to bear this line of thinking more and more in mind. It is this combined with the time I've been afforded out here, and of the course the enjoyment I get from it, that has lead me to the extensive reading I've been doing. Extensive to me at least.

A street performer, a wonderful free thinker who resonates greatly with me would frequently say "don't believe a word I say". Take the ideas that resonate and make sense to you, but never be afraid to change them in light of new information, never be afraid to say "I was wrong about that and have changed my mind".

And sure thinking like this can be frustrating, you just have to be patient and be willing to make mistakes. The best way we learn is from our fuck ups.

Lucky D's Hostel, San Diego - "Now show your hands, you have no right to complicate"

It's fascinating,I think, to examine the relationship between pleasure and consumption. Thinking of the things we, speaking generally of the wider population, enjoy doing are temporary fixes. We enjoy indulging in food regardless of whether or not it's healthy or of necessary nutritional value. We enjoy the temporary high we get from alcohol, before it wears off or we over indulge. For the younger generations it's about action figures, dolls, trading cards and the other latest trends. For the teens and young adults it's video games, DVD players, sports equipment and finally it becomes all this plus clothes and cars and houses. It seems that although one's happiness may not actually correlate with their consumption we generally believe that it does. Look no further for an example of this then people who consider shopping a past time. I don't mean to cast judgement on this method of seeking pleasure. It just seems to me that this form of pleasure, primarily material, always consumptive, is incredibly temporary.From a socio - political/economic stand point this is arguably a result of the system we live in. A liberal capitalist society, with what is essentially a free market. We gain money, we spend it for a temporary kick, we go make more. A constant cycle of producing so we can consume.

I guess I've always been thinking about possible alternatives to this, although I may never have expressed that in a such a specific framework. When we feel the need to consume, we are acting on desires or cravings we believe we have. They may be our own, they may have been subtly pushed into us through various of cohesion. When we seek pleasure we seek to stimulate our mind, his is done through satisfying our desires or by altering, challenging, changing our perceptions. The latter of these would serve as reasoning why alcohol is so popular. The question then, is how do we pursue these results without relying on the consumption of things we fundamentally don't need or that do us no long term good.

The idea to which I'm drawn I struggle to articulate in an all encompassing manner. If the following doesn't come across as understandable then I apologise and hope that the examples that follow will aid the reading of this idea. I think the key to an excitement and enjoyment lies in two inter related things, information and perception. Our perception is how we see the world, how we understand this consequently effects our relationship to it. When I say information I mean to encompass all ideas, theories, beliefs, history and all of the seemingly endless ocean of knowledge we have access to. Information is what moulds our perceptions and is therefore what changes them.

I must stress that when I refer to information I don't mean just scholarly knowledge and ideas of the published intellectual. I mean all that which communicates ideas whether this be in the form of reference or art, religion, culture, tradition.

The problem we have is that we are stuck in the idea that majority of western society, "The American Dream" being the easiest way to qualify this. When we seek to expand our perceptions, through the examination of information we have taken a path that is undeniably exhilarating. To be be able to continually surprise our self and reach beyond what we know. I find within myself (it may be exclusive to me but what am I to base my thoughts on if not my own experience?) a constant desire to seek what is true. Even though I'm consciously aware that the very notion of anything being "true" is essentially impossible. What certainly is impossible is me ever being able to say for sure what is true. I find this whole process of seeking truth in itself thoroughly enjoyable, for it excites my mind and constantly changes my perceptions.

It's all very well speaking of this idea of information being an alternate route to pleasure by exciting the mind through constant development, but how does it come about in practice? For me personally, generally learning and educating myself on that which I am drawn to is an answer, through various means of reading, listening to lectures, watching documentaries etc. But I think it is present on a wider scale and on a far more subtle level. Conversation, just talking to each other and sharing ideas and opinions, whether debating, arguing or just shooting the shit, all of this I think evolves our perceptions and excites us intellectually. We have the phrase "The art of conversation" for a reason. Through music, listening and interpreting and generally experiencing we can also lean so much, likewise with film. Through any forms of art which show us something different from the view perpetuated by the main stream.

And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this is how I live my life, hell I enjoy sitting down with my little brother watching professional wrestling and playing a bit of xbox.

The above is just some theorising on consumption and materialism which popped into my head today.

Lucky D's Hostel, San Diego - "My goddess gave birth to your god"

Let me tell you a story about karma, Abercrombie and Fitch and a hostel in San Diego. I don't remember his name. I always called him Abercrombie. Whenever he introduced himself he made it known that he worked for the over - priced fashion outlet and if he were in the company of a female, which he often tried to be, the revelation of his employment would be followed up with a very deliberate lift of the shirt, glint of the eye and "I couldn't guess why". Yes he was tanned, toned with washboard abs and hair so thick with wax you could use it as a candle. The kind of guy who looks like an extra at Madame Tussaud's, skin so bronzed and perfect you didn't know whether it was flesh or plastic. So clean he looked greasy, or maybe that was my opinion manifesting through my site. All interaction with women was overtly arrogant flirtation. All interaction with men was bragging about said flirtation. I don't know how the term douche bag fell into modern slang or when it came to have such a rigid definition, regardless, it's fair to say; Abercrombie was the archetypal douche bag.

The wonderful hostel I'm staying at is kind enough to provide free dinner three nights of the week. It's the kitchen where out story begins, an easy going vibe, typical of the hostel, is resonant throughout our little banquet hall. You can almost hear the vaginas slamming shut as Abercrombie makes his entrance. He makes no effort to hide the fact he's drunk, boasting about the extensive day drinking he's done at the Ivy. Free dinner is fish tacos. Free dinner makes everything taste good. When someone has the grace to cook for you, irrelevant of the quality, the tacos were real nice as it goes, one should generally have the gratitude to be thankful. Can you guess where this is going? AFers has the audacity to moan about the food, "these are the cheapest fish tacos I think I've ever had" his tone was one of condescension and complaint, not one of revelry in the fact they were free. As you may of guessed that comment pissed people off, his drunken bragging about this and that does nothing to quell the passive aggressive stares and sighs being directed his way.

Abercrombie sets his plate down beside mine and takes up the seat below it. I continue the conversation to my right, trying to ignore his on presence to my left. "You...you know what would really make these fish tacos Tom?" he says with a vague alcohol - induced glaze over his eyes, "Some sour cream, I just really think it would it off don't you?" Exhibit A: The douche bag, Exhibit B: The drunken douche bag, identical in composition to the former, with a heightened ability to annoy and brag. My response to the Fitchmeister was as follows: "You know man, me and you should go drinking sometime," "Yeah?" he replied. "Yeah man. I've got no problem with your kind of people." A confused haze dictates the tone of his response, "What do you mean my kind of people?" I continue "You are gay right? I'm gay myself I thought we could go out together..." With some vigour and, in perhaps a suspiciously defensive tone, "I'm not gay!" - Exit Abers.

He seemed the kind of person who would be offended by such a comment and apparently he was. From what I hear our HE - Man wannabe went outside for a cigarette and then managed to incur the wrath of three drunk baseball fans. Allegedly the baseball douche bags made a snide comment about living in a hostel, to which our Zoolander imitator didn't take to kindly. A fight ensued and HE - Man failed to summon any power of grayskull. He got beat down, punched and kicked, resulting in a black eye, a bulging cheek bone and a severely bruised ego. Exhibit C: The emasculated douche bag, a stuttering awkward mess who tries to defend his ego.

So he got beat up, I'm not saying that's karma, I'm not saying he deserved it, I'm just saying it somehow feels just. When Abercrombie relayed the traumatic incident to his employer he was apparently told he shouldn't live in a place where he's prone to getting the shit kicked out of him. Basically "You're a fucking moron, the only thing that makes you employable is your face." Now I'm not saying this was karma, but he got beaten up and has left the hostel. So long Abercrombie, so long.

I don't remember where I wrote this, some in San Diego - "Break down to the essence"

I feel like it's been too long since I wrote in here.

When I was in school I felt like I was wasted, I felt there was this potential, this desire to get out and do something, anything that allowed me some form of expression or engagement with others and looking around in that light blue common room, with the dense humidity of perspiration I could see potential in others as well all of it unrealised. When I got out, I felt fucking great. I could do all the things I was prevented from doing before. I could travel, protest, write, meet new people and just generally enjoy a life of my own.

Gradually I'm coming to terms with something. I'm understanding the true value of patience. I feel no great need to rush and have everything I wanna do done at once. Everything takes time and whatever I seek as a final goal, the process of striving towards it should match or surpass the achievement of the goal itself. I'm aware that these statements must sound obvious and somewhat worn out, but for me they're holding true and I'm really coming to recognise what they mean.

Getting away has in many ways been like an outer body experience. Providing me with a fresh perspective on my situation back home. I've come to a new appreciation for the little things we take for granted, as I'm sure most of us do when we're away from home for a while. Also though I've had the opportunity to change and rectify the parts of my self I wasn't happy with. This procedure has me making a of all the shit to do this summer wand has given me an energy to get on and plan it so when I get home I have no time wasted and really use the potential I have.

Coming out of education was incredibly freeing, but in deciding on this trip I snared myself in an economic net. Where I was constantly weary of saving money. This trip is incredible for sure, but being at home free to spend money as I wish; on important things I might add, not the exciting pursuit of clothes and trainers, is gonna be really awesome.

Lucky D's - "Take everything your parents taught you and throw it too the dirt"

You know that feeling where you wake up with two marines in your room which was empty upon going to sleep? That's right over the weekend the jar heads were in town and there head is indeed as empty as the most empty jar one could imagine. Hoo-fucking-rah. Nah that weren't much trouble, just brainwashed douche bags.

Before this trip I think it's fair to say I had some strange delusion of the lone traveler,who through living cheaply and scraping his way up the west coast of the US by any means necessary approaches some sort of enlightenment. The common way trips like this are viewed, those during a gap year, is that a kid is trying to find himself and see some of the world before he goes off to uni and finally sells his soul into the slavery bonds of employment post graduation.

Viewing what I'm doing from the context of this trip alone however is to ignore all that has preceded it since I took this year out. I've been able to study that which I want to. Meet countless like minded people. Attend protest and perform activism, memories of which will remain forever. I've been able to write, to play music, do all which I wanted bus was shut off from before.

The whole idea of finding oneself, however cliche, is in my opinion of the utmost importance. It's not the experience of this gap year and this trip that is making me who I am. It's those experiences which are allowing me to become who I've been for sometime now, and as that comes out it evolves with each second that passes. Me being who I really am facilitates the evolution of my consciousness and my perceptions. Whereas if I was just being a product of my social surroundings and a reaction to those individuals within them no evolution would take place. This would be due to the fact that a false self is being projected at the situations and scenarios which propagate personal evolution.

These are my current thoughts, I may re - read this before I type it up and disagree completely with it, but there you go. Take it as an idea, ignore who's saying it. A thought on the issue inspired by Terence Mckenna who states enlightenment isn't some "Oh my god" / "Eureka" moment. It's a slow process. I think the same can be applied to the idea of finding ones self.

Lucky D's Common Room - "We tell them we reggae, then we tell them again"

Second day here, first in full. Hit a couple of museums and got knackered, ok enough of that. So I wanna write something that I've frequently spoken of with people but never articulated into a complete passage.

From a very early age we are set into social situations where the age range is very controlled, very limited. This is primarily done through the education system which has children's ages separated from four years old to eighteen. Speaking from experience it's remarkable how much of an impact this has on an individual.

What it does is contain ones mind in a world where perceptions can become limited and no voice of experience is present. One effect this has is producing personalities of remarkable similarity. The development of social stereotypes and various high school cliques is arguably a result of this.

The problem with this set up is that it gives no accurate reflection of the wider society. A job being an effective, if dull, example. Where I work ages run from sixteen, nineteen, through to late twenties, mid thirties and mid to late fifties. Wide range of age, experience and perspective which will inevitably help the mind of an individual evolve both personality and perceptions. It is my opinion that not only is this age segregation irreflective of wider society but on a more basic level, nature as well.

The reason I write about this is because of the situation I now find myself in. In the hostel you've got ages from 18 up to forty. People who are travelling, holidaying, temporarily living and people working here. Dozens of individuals each with a different story to how they came to be in San Diego. Beyond that there is obviously a wealth of nationalities present too. English, Irish, American, French, German, Danish, Israeli, Brazilian, the list goes on. Everyone getting on and living peacefully with no one being segregated due to age, social status or fashion sense.

Two years ago I was stuck in school with everyone being the same age as me. Of course I had a lot of love for my friends, who mostly share this opinion I think, but aside from them everyone just felt boring and the same, there was no real diversity of ideas or experience. Whereas here there's nothing but diversity.

Lucky D's Hostel, San Diego - "Just me, myself and I"

Just arrived and I'm pretty stoked to be in a downtown area as opposed to where I was in Scottsdale, seemingly eons away from anything. Seems like I've gone from yin to yang - deep suburbs to downtown. The hostel it's self has a real cool vibe too it, sorta what I imagine Sam's head to look like on the inside; big colours, lots of random art and shit on the walls. Overall psychedelic vibe. They got a sound system throughout the halls and I'm not sure whether it's radio or what, but the tunes are pretty sweet. Soundgarden, Offspring, Chillis, Tool...it's like a 90's music dream time as far I'm concerned.

Currently I've only met on person, Jim, who I'm rooming with. Seems a nice guy. Comes from Essex so we've been doing some marvelling at how hard it is to cross the road and either small details which rear their head. They're serving free dinner tonight, big up the FREE part of that. So with a bit of luck I'll meet some people when I roll on down to that.

Oh also I think I'm gonna be a young'un here. Dunno if that assumption will be correct. The drinking age is 21 and from what I've heard they're pretty strict on ID, so that kills any socialising off in terms of pub crawls and the like, not that I'd be drinking but y'know.

As a side note I just caught the end of the film The Marine...fucking hilarious movie.

Scottsdale - "I can't take pity on a man of his kind, he now takes it in the behind"

Penultimate day in Arizona. Earlier I was looking up potential travel routes for the rest of this trip and I went and got myself real worried about what lays ahead of me. Worry, worry, worry about money, about where I'll end up, about making my flight home, about all this shit. So I'm sat here musing on my emotions and I can like it to another time when I felt a similar emotional confliction. When I smoked my first joint; getting on two years or so ago. I was puffing the magic dragon, enjoying myself, just chilling with friends. Yet down in the pit of my stomach there was this guilt. That's the only way I can put it, I recognised this weird conflict at the time as well.

So I'm smoking, feeling guilty and yet I knew there wasn't, and still isn't I might add, any logical moral or pharmacological reason why I shouldn't have been doing what I was doing. I can only attribute this to conditioning, from continually being told that all that is illegal is wrong and that drugs are oh so very evil. I'd been programmed to feel guilty, to feel bad, because I was breaking this programming and acting on what I felt to be right as opposed to what I'd always been told was right.

The point then, is that I'm worried about shit I've been told to be worried about, I'm working on judgements and assumptions that aren't from personal experience or deliberation but have been pushed into me over time from various sources. So what do I do now that I've recognised this? I accept that I have no true answer to the questions of how well I'll survive on this budget, where I'll end up staying and how I'll get around. Once I've come to terms with this I say "fuck it, lets find out." A quote from drunken comedic prophet Doug Stanhope: "Don't learn from other people's mistakes, that's the worst advice because other people might have fucked it up and you might be the guy who can do it right an be a hero for everybody."

A quick round of "fuck you"'s.
Fuck anyone who tells me I won't be able to this trip without sufficient money. Fuck the Met police for kidnapping my friends and dropping them off in the middle of nowhere after saying they'd be free to go. Fuck all the police over here who where a smirk of superiority under their fascist lip toupee and for constantly looking at people as if to say "cunt". Fuck the TSA for making air travel a way to degrade and instill fear into all those they encounter. But most of all fuck Tom Dunt, fuck him for letting all these people get into his head and letting them wear down his confidence.

Tomorrow I arrive in San Diego and I can't fucking wait. Oh fuck Tom Dunt also for stealing the structure, tone and idea of the above monologue from the film 25th hour where Edward Norton performs a far superior version.

PS Feel free to drop me a line on facebook or email as I'm already missing the regularity with which I speak to you crazy sons of bitches.

tomdunt@hotmail.co.uk email/msn
tom.dunt skype

Peace and love.
Tom

Scottsdale - "I can

Green Belt, Scottsdale - "I am a whore of love, I'll fall in love with anyone, just give me time and I'll be yours"

So today I attended my first ever baseball game, complete with bottom of the ninth and all that crap. It was enjoyable for sure, maybe more due to the novelty then anything else but still 'twas fun. I know some may disagree but from what I can conclude; yes, yes it is a glorified game of rounders.

And now, a letter.

Dear large annoying woman sat to my right,

I appreciate you came to this event to enjoy a game of baseball in the sun with a cool beverage to hand. I can also appreciate that you want to strike up a conversation with those either side of you. However do you think constant jokes about me being British are really that funny? No you fat sack of shit I'm not attending the royal wedding HAHAHAHA... You're not playing to any friends you're just drunk. Now I support you're right to ingest the drug of your choosing, but Jesus Christ, getting drunk and chanting at the top of your lungs "Col-o-ra-do (clap clap clap clap clap)" alone is not cool. In my mind where, among other things, I'm sacrificing your life so someone worthwhile could have been with us a little longer, I'm screaming "Shut-the-fuck-up (clap clap clap clap clap)". It's people like you who successfully justify acts of terrorism being brought upon the western world.

Thank you for taking the time to read this I know it must have been difficult whilst pouring more witty down your head.

Tom

Green Belt, Scottsdale - "Do that one more time and I'll bite your fucking fingers off"

From above I imagine it looked like a naughts and crosses board, hundreds of stools and various artists pushing their wares, each trying to be more unique then the next. Side of the street a guy a couple years my junior has drawn a small crowd. You know those balls, about the size of a cricket ball, look like glass and get played with...by street performers so that they appear to float, he was messing with one of them. This is a festival of arts in downtown Tempe. So this guy's got pretty sweet moves and I'm now part of the group of impressed on lookers. After a few minutes a man gives the warlock of the floating ball some money. Within seconds festival security are saying he can't do that because artist's pay for stalls etc etc. Dumballdore wasn't asking for money, he just happened to receive it. I wonder sometimes how people like this security fellow can't see the sheer ridiculousness of their actions. They kicked him out of the festival.

In light of security's love of it's own power, and probably a desperate cry for attention, I decided to get some signage going in an attempt to hack the matrix of the collective unconscious. Signs included: "Don't believe anyone", "Including me", "Never question authority" and "Don't think, consume". As always with this exercise any conscious response can be considered a positive one, at least it means people are thinking on some level.

Scottsdale - "Maybe all of our art creates the fate of other beings"

Quick update on what I'm filling my time with. Small vague bouts of exploration around town, other then that reading, writing, listening, watching all things that are fascinating. Reading Brave New World, listening to various Terrence Mckenna lectures, Watching Athene's theory of everything, Writing all the shit posted below. Also one the reading list is Broca's Mind by Carl Sagan, Plato's Dialogues, Aldous Huxley's Doors of Perception - if I can find a cheap copy. Next to watch is DMT The Spirit Molecule and next to listen to more Terence. I'm loving devoting time to the things I find stimulating, not in that way, but sometimes in that way. Unfortunately for you guys me reading and researching all this shit oftens provides inspirtation for me to write and leads to the boring stuff as that written below.

Scottsdale - "Reach into the darkness for what you can find, travel great distance in your mind"

Dissonance: The mind's ability to hold two contradictory beliefs simultaneously. I was thinking about this as I wrote this entry so here's hoping it might give the following a little bit more sense..

A thought has continued to reoccur on a slow loop through my head, the idea of truth and the desire for something that is true. I've started this trip in what is probably one of the most affluent, well off suburbs in the USA and thus the world. There's no poverty here, there's no struggle, there's just giant house, upon golf course, upon holiday resort. To me it just doesn't feel true. What do I mean by that thought, I'm honestly not sure. If true is the same thing as real then it means nothing; seen as what's real is relative to the perspective from which I see it and to the state in which my consciousness is in at any particular moment. When I'm asleep dreams are real. It could be argued that the distinction between true and real is that truth is a constant which exists regardless of the state of consciousness or the physical location within which one finds them self. Hows that for reaching a conclusion without any research or experimentation?

Suppose "truth" and the "real" are one in the same though. That would mean that they are almost entirely determined by my mental/psychological outlook.

"You're in a house with a pool? I thought you were going all Thoreau?" So did I. I think more then anything this trip was about experience, good, bad, it doesn't matter it's all valuable in the same way that all knowledge becomes self knowledge. Within the next few weeks I have the ability to take this from a decent inexpensive holiday into a trip where I unlearn the unspoken rules I've been taught I must abide by to function within this society, and learn for myself what I truly need to get by. By pushing the self to it's limits and seeing how it, how I respond. I feel the question isn't why should I do this but do I want to? Sometimes I answer absolutely undoubtedly yes, sometimes "meh, see how it goes."

Right now this is real easy, I got free accommodation, free food and a Brave New World like suburb in terms of human interaction. I'm real keen to see what happens when I get out of here. This has been the slow lowering into the hot water, na fuck that - boring metaphor. This has been the slow introduction to anal sex, with the lubricant and the gentle, caring hands. Whats to come may be a full on ass raping. I just have to be patient 'till I get out of here.

Tempe Arizona - "My smile is a rifle and what are you?"

Rain is proof god has rhythm. If you choose to listen it will tell you the truth about that which you see. A small, vibrant area of town has me walking, strolling, listening for what is hidden from my sight. Clouds make the world seem darker when it rains but somehow that just makes smiles seem brighter. Truth be told it's never worth trying to stay dry, that's a battle worth losing, once you're wet you can stop darting from awning to awning and just enjoy the drum solo of the sky. It helps remind of the temporary nature of things, in seconds they're soaking, discoloured, washed anew.

Wandering in the rhythm is so peaceful, few wish to navigate falling oceans and one is left with a pleasant beat to their every step. Small, niche shops of the town's backstreets will always appeal to those who think they're individual, they love the enlightening realisation; "oh shit, other people like this stuff too!" Raindrops somehow slow everything down, like looking at the world through a strobe light but instead of flashing light they bend it.

Near the end of the excursion I end up walking past a group of four, two male two female. Situated on the sides of a small square, a space between two buildings which had fake marble supports. The style of architecture allowed for them to sit on the marble-esque blocks. The two girls sat on one side with one of the boys, who was facing the other sitting across the square.

Through the rain the men stared at one another slowly crafting images in the air with their hands. One would draw an arching curve with his left hand and a solid line horizontally with his right that would cut through, intersecting it. Not moving an inch except to slowly drag on a cigarette one of the girls handed him he fixated on his brother in hands. In a relaxed but deliberate manner he pitched his head to the side, as if the view would better serve his understanding. Slowly his neck returned his head to it's original position and with a faint smile which hinted more at satisfaction then pleasure, he began to carve out his own masterpiece from the space in front of him

The rain's melody had fallen to secondary aural status. The girl sitting across from where I stood was strumming out what seemed to be harmonious chords of nothing in particular. Her playing reflected the rain, still falling, it was erratic but pleasant, definite but unintrusive. It was undoubtedly present yet it faded more into the moment and stimulated a background for a memory that was heard not seen. The second girl sat to my left, a ukulele resting against her knees, up close to her chest and a cigarette passing back and fourth between her and the guitarist; slowly burning it's way to the end of the tobacco, beginning of filter. Sign language still filled the empty space between the cover provided by the roof atop these pillars and the gentle lapping of guitar was lost along with the chorus of the rain.

"Just jamming out while it pours down?" A polite smile and a "Yes", with the sentence left suspended by a drag and a puff.
"Where you guys from" I ask.
"Salt Lake City originally"
"What brings you out here?" The guitar continued to play. The space covered by the roof was a floor that held well travelled looking backpacks and modest guitar cases. Cue ukulele. "Our friend dropped us down here" "We're heading to Hawaii in a few days" spoke the ukulele's player. The girls were dressed in loose fitting trousers and earthy coloured cardigans, all reds, browns, yellows. Our guitarist wore her brunette hair short. A pair of red framed glasses held her eyes; which seemed to have a simple honesty within them.

The band keeps playing, somehow in perfect time with nature's rhythm section. "My name's Rocket" said the red frames. "Tom" I replied with a handshake. Five maybe ten minutes of father time had elapsed and I could tell these were four of the most interesting people I'd come across. I was filled with questions but somehow I could tell that the simple, honest answers I'd receive wouldn't warrant they're asking. Sixteen at the youngest, twenty two at the oldest? It didn't matter.
"I'll leave you and your band of misfits to your jam, nice meeting you"
"You too, goodbye Tom."
"Goodbye Rocket."

The band plays an encore, no audience is required.

Down by the riverside - "She's a bright girl, but she knows nothing of the world"

The "green belt" runs through Scottsdale, it's the ten percent of the city that isn't concrete. Grass, the colour of which would make the green giant proud, combined with small lakes and large ponds in between the turf and trees. It feels as if the green belt is to nature what pets are to the animal kingdom. It's aesthetically beautiful, it's just that it feels like a golf course for the public. If you dig a massive hole in the ground, fill it with water and fish, then turf round the edges what do you have? How far is it possible for nature to be unnatural? I suppose it's the same as being attracted to the girl with the spray tan and fake breasts; fine for looking at but no substance. Almost as though the idyllic image of nature supercedes nature itself. It's as though we want the desirable parts to exist separate from those we deem undesirable.

I'm not saying perfection isn't beautiful, I'm saying it gets boring. I don't mean to sound like a whiney bitch and I'm not moaning, I'm sitting beside one of these lakes as I write this and it's amazing. As I've said before these are just thoughts, not meant to have a point just meant to be honest. All the conflict and irony I've drawn out of this man - made natural beauty seems irrelevant now. I just took a walk and got to see the sun set into mountains. I'd liken that to the pale girl, with the average sized breasts, with the personality and the substance. The girl who has that smile that leaves you helpless to do anything but beam right back at her. Truly beautiful.

Scottsdale Arizona - "It's not so bad being trendy everyone who looks at me is my friend"

Look through the paper, get on azcentral.com, "what do you wanna do?" Do. Do. Do. Gotta be proactive, gotta be partaking, gotta be acting, gotta be performing, playing, doing. The great play goes on and you must contribute a verse. This is your life and you have one chance, I'm the only example of me that will ever exist... If I want something to happen I'll get off my ass and make it happen. But I'm all alone, outside all day, I have nowhere to be and no commitments tying me down, well shit; I'm happy to just enjoy that for a little while. I don't have that strange sense of urgency I used to get. There's something real peaceful about there being very little planned in front of me. I guess the most obvious way to articulate it is freedom. I feel real calm with everything, yet when I get back I got a job to get back on, school to go to come October and a fuck load of debt the four years after. This period just feels isolated somehow. My first time truly on my own?

Okay so I know if you're reading this you're probably gonna skip through the boring shit like that above paragraph. Third day in Arizona; mapping, exploring, fishing (I'll be surprised if anyone gets that, if you don't, fear not it's a terrible joke which at best would result in a week exhalation of breathe an a vague twitch of those 15 special muscles. Similar to how a corpse still releases air - similar to that only the guy died jacking off, so the endorphins were flowing when it happened...I think that's how I'd like to go...) Basically I found me some public transport to run down into the denser part of town (sweet!).

It's astounding how much TV and video games prepare you for how everything looks out here, it's like being a in a perpetual state of de ja vu except I'm not a black guy called CJ stealing cars. The scale is pretty indescribable. "Huge" just doesn't do it justice. Each city is built in what is essentially a grid system, leaving squares of land in between the roads that form the grid, these are used for housing estates or strip malls. A strip mall being a central car park and shops surrounding the edge. This is the construct of pretty much all of Scottsdale. Long roads edged with huge houses and strip malls. What more could the human being need?

Scottsdale, Arizona - "I punched a lion in the throat"

So I made it, I'm here. Twenty two hours of airport, plane, airport, plane, airport. It's currently half three in the afternoon and I feel as jet lagged as a bear who's missed winter hibernation. I wish I could hibernate. So my head's pretty fucked up at the moment, there's this persistent conflict of emotion. The weather's stunning; really hot, really sunny, only a vague remnants of clouds in the sky - Looks like a Jackson Pollack, only he's started on a blue canvas, only has white paint and really can't be asked. I've got three months ahead of me with near unlimited potential to explore, yet my mind tends to wander towards the negative, a fear of the unknown perhaps. I'm used to being confident and sure in my actions and decisions, why is this? Because my physical surroundings are sufficiently understood so that I may manipulate them to suit my own ends. Need to get somewhere?Find the nearest bus/train. Need to get somewhere? What, no car? Ha, fuck you. Everything really is bigger in the US. And it's that physical scale that on the one hand creates huge potential for activity and exploration but on the other scares the holy hell out of me. The worry then is that my wits alone may not be enough to get me by.

There's also the fear I may lose myself. The worry that changing the animal's parameters may fundamentally change the animal. Change is inevitable, it is the nature of our very existence, I mean what is this life if anything more then a single moment in perpetual change? I suppose I don't want to have to compromise what I feel to be my true self in order to get by. It's all very well knowing who I am, it's all very good being that person in a space where I'm comfortable with the parameters. The true test of the self is to be able to to accurately express who I think I am in an alien environment where I'm uncomfortable with my surroundings.

There was a long time spent thinking about this trip, planning it, theorising it, speaking it, verbalising it and all of a sudden it's real. I'm sitting in someones back garden in Scottsdale Arizona, in twenty six degree heat. Somehow I actually made this happen. I once wrote about how we can change our own world just by thinking it. By looking at things in a different light we can change how we think of them and how we react to them. I still stand by this idea. I also wrote once in a poem "There is thinking about acting and there is acting" now although that line may suck poetically, I like to think it means something. I can change my own world, my own perspective all I want but if I want to take that change and externalise i, if I wanna put that scene on a stage then I have to grow some balls and do it. Remembering that will put me in good stead for this trip: I need a good set of balls.

"Enough you pretentious, boring bastard! Give us some diary like diatribe." Ok. Couple of strange moments of synchronicity so far. Sometimes I think that the way the universe is it can respond to how we behave and create these moments. Sometimes I think that's absolute crap and I'm simply replacing the word "God" with "Universe" and taking away the fact that I myself made this happen. Anyway; got served by a girl in a restaurant who complimented me on my shirt (get in!) because it had a robot on it and she really likes robots. I don't think people liking robots is weird, ok I do, but beyond that it's very uncommon, she had a robot tattoo on the back of her neck. I know one person who likes robots that much and she's one of my best friends. Secondly I mentioned to Nancy, the woman I'm staying with here, that I'd like to see the Grand Canyon. Who did she meet a few days before I got here...director of tourism for the Grand Canyon.

One last thing. I heard on the news that the west coast of the US; where I'm heading may be at potential risk of some sort of geological fallout from the Japanese earth quake, that's to say they might have one of their own. Yeah, this trip is gonna be interesting...

The Plane

Made it onto the first flight of the day. Small squabble with security - I asked if being searched was a legal requirement, the couldn't answer, but I chose not to pursue it further cause I'd quite like to get on the plane.

Anyway it's slowly dawning on me how much of this trip is about me relying on the kindness and generosity of people, the kindness and generosity of my fellow man. I mean without that I wouldn't be on my way to Phoenix right now. Truth be told I' scared shitless and truth be told I'm worried. And although it's cliche it rings true from personal experience; the best way to deal with any fear is to dive right at it, unless it's snakes. The fear, the worry, the nerves of this whole thing come from the fact I'm alone. But I guess I have to trust myself sometime.

The Space Inbetween

I think the strangest part of being at an airport is the artificiality (if that is a word) of the whole thing. Terminal, customs, boarding are, plane. The only daylight I'll be seeing is through the window of the plane. Odd how when going through customs you feel guilty, maybe that's just me being me though, dubious about any sort of authority. A series of robocops and terminators checking my passport, constantly suspicious "Is there anything in here that can be used as or considered a weapon..." "...well I suppose if you if you ball one sock inside another and swing it like a fabric mace..." Somehow I don't think my awkward humour will go down well with these people. I'm more intimidated by the logistics of air travel then I am by the whole of this journey. Sitting here it's that same feeling you get in hospitals, s'all white and sterilised yet somehow doesn't feel clean, same as that feeling except you've got more shit to buy. Forty Five minutes till gates due open. I keep thinking once I'm on the plane I'm done, just get off and go, departing's always quicker then arriving. Unfortunately not though, I gotta repeat the process again for another flight. the nightmare of hyper - organisation, of efficiency, time is money and can't be wasted; herd the cattle. I swear the process of of getting on a place reminds me of "Oh shit! Get to the escape pods!!!"