it's 8:34 am, on September 10, 2024 - london, 2026, epiphany, 1886..

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it has been a lil minute, to quoth l'alestar, huh? I shudder to even look back on the last time I updated this.

part of being a little more stable is not necessarily being able to be so poetic at three in the morning. mourning. part of it is having lost so much of what I want to say in the doing of the mundane -- the holy and the mundane, the midlife crisis of the soul. spirit of hunter s thompson, will you save me?

here's a goal: london in 2026, save my soul. here's a reality: mortgage and loneliness. here's the secret: both. but okay. those things are always there. age is learning to live with them a little easier. so. london, a trip into a fictional history, one you make up for yourself, overlaid with some fictional history of your own. nothing will be the same.

...maybe somewhere you have never travelled. two vast and trunkless legs of stone, in the midst of southwark, might be a bit much for a solo trip. too old to go backpacking, too tired to meet people while travelling. too made of stone yourself to go with friends. but travelling with ghosts might be good company.

you won't know unless you try it.

~

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london, 2026, epiphany, 1886. - September 10, 2024
- - June 15, 2023
- - March 26, 2022
nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy - March 25, 2022
- - March 10, 2022

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