I know it’s spring, but everybody knows California always does it first.
Hello summer.
My girlfriend brought these flowers over for an Easter brunch we had at my apartment. I don’t have a vase, so we put them in my glass boot, which was a gift from my friends Anne and Andy. Typically it gets filled with beer, not flowers. When I saw it, It reminded me of how much I’ve slowed my drinking, and how much of a good thing that is.
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by The Platters.
Almost there.
Brought home a little Dalí inspiration from Spain.
Here we go.
Alexis. Drew. Magic Johnson’s Friday’s. LAX. San Jose. Terminal Drinking. More flying. My first stamp. Lima. Our apartment. Carolina. Sebastian. 4am 90s top 40. Taxis that weren’t taxis at all. Karaoke. Pisco sours. Sushi. Con permiso. Agua con gas. Agua sin gas. Tour busses. Catacombs. Chili’s. Our taxi ran out of gas. Ice cream. Another plane. Cusco. Our hostel. Cinemax. Michelle. Dancing in markets. Hiking. Hunted by wild dogs. Altitude sickness. Snickers grande. Canadian Irish pub. Dos mas please. A train. Aguas Calientes. Jurassic Park. Hot springs. Market bargaining. Machu Picchu. Touring. Hiking. Photo ops. Wonder. Naps. Rain. A late train. A missed bus. High-speed taxi driving. Intercepting and boarding our bus. Frostbite. Arequipa. Sand boarding fail. Rafting. Rafting rescue. Cerveza hunting. Bibs. Alpaca. Another plane. Back to Lima. More Chili’s. Ramada. Security cameras. More Cinemax. Another plane. San Jose. More flying. LAX. Mckenzie. Home.
That was my trip to Peru. Exhausting, but I wouldn’t do a thing differently. If this was difficult to grasp, then I described it perfectly. You really had to be there.
Royale, the company I work with, sponsored me and two others to attend the Style Frames design conference in New York City. I took in a lot from the experience, and feel truly fortunate to have had the opportunity.
It was my second, and longest visit to the Empire State. I spent most of my time in Manhattan. It’s an amazing thing to walk through its streets. Literally standing in the shadows of the achievements of men. I could see a contagious hustle about everything. Everyone moves with purpose. It’s inspiring. But even in all this wonder, I remember feeling most amazed at the sight of my own breath.
Photo Credit: Handel Eugene
Of The Sea by AA Bondy.
The best nights.
My good friend Drew, and about a year ago, maybe less, mailed me a book he thought I should read. I’m not much a reader, but his opinion is one of the few I tend to consider. The book was Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. I finished it a few weeks ago, and since the first page, I’ve thought about it daily. Couldn’t have read it at a more appropriate time. I’ve been in a such a fog. More and more, I watch my actions contradict my thoughts. But the ideas in this book have brought some clarity to me. It has reminded me of the values I’ve already known, and more importantly, believed, but have not practiced.
Countlessly, I have surrendered my time to causes I believed to be less important than my own, for nothing in return. I’ve been taught that this is virtue, to give without receiving. I can say with honesty that I have never felt the “goodness” in these means of trade. Only a feeling of guilt for not enjoying it, as I am supposed to. Ayn Rand has reminded me that value is traded for value, and nothing less.
I could quote some of the writing that resonates with me, but to truly communicate what I took away, I think a question is best. Something that will likely cross my mind, throughout the expanse of my life and help me navigate it. The question being, what would Dagny Taggart do?