Hey readers. I made my cartoon debut. Check it out and see if you can pick me out:
The video is "For What Its Worth" from the Remastered album. The artist is J.R. Brinton & the experiment.
Thanks again Jjaybyrd42. It's neat to see myself as a cartoon.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Casanova's word of the day:
Casanova's word of the day is: coquette
Coquette: a woman who endeavors without sincere affection to gain the attention and admiration of men
- coquettish adjective
Gentlemen, they've been around since the time of Casanova and before, and you can still find them aplenty today. Ladies, you probably know one. The key word is endeavor. Women of outstanding external or internal beauty will no doubt garner the attention and admiration of many, to no fault of their own. The coquette, however, endeavors to garner this attention and admiration with no intention of returning it once it is obtained. She nurtures it and feeds it. She's a cold, emotional vampire, whose ego must feed off the affections of the living. Collecting her butterflies, she pins them through the heart to her board of trophies.
What are the signs?
1. In a circle of several guy friends, each one is under the impression that he shares a special connection with the coquette and that she is in some way interested in him.
2. Facebook. Notice the "wall" interactions. It's one thing to be hit up by tons of guys and to be kind about it. That's admirable. Nothing wrong with popularity and interaction/harmless flirting with the opposite sex. It's good to be alive. The coquette though will have lots of long drawn out and extensive dialogues with multiple guys who are clearly interested. They aren't hitting on her or flirting. They're relationship building, oblivious to one another due to - see sign 1.
3. The coquette absolutely cannot interact with the opposite sex without "baiting". This means going beyond flirting, to giving subtle indicators of interest. These are subtle clues that tell the male she's open to pursuit and receptive to potential mating. Males will pursue whether they've received these clues or not, but with them they let their emotional guard down and display their interest on a vulnerable and intimate level.
So keep your guard up gentlemen so you can spot a coquette when you come in contact with her. It can save you time, money and heartache. Don't become skeptical of all flirtations you receive. That would take the fun out of interaction. Just be aware.
If a girl does prove to be a coquette, drop the acquaintance and pay no heed to how "real" or "genuine" her interest or interaction seemed. Just get away from the drug. It might feel good in the moment, but you know it's not good for you and is slowly destroying you.
As we know from Casanova, there are far too many incredible women out there worth the courting. Avoid the coquette in pursuit of greater treasure.
Coquette: a woman who endeavors without sincere affection to gain the attention and admiration of men
- coquettish adjective
Gentlemen, they've been around since the time of Casanova and before, and you can still find them aplenty today. Ladies, you probably know one. The key word is endeavor. Women of outstanding external or internal beauty will no doubt garner the attention and admiration of many, to no fault of their own. The coquette, however, endeavors to garner this attention and admiration with no intention of returning it once it is obtained. She nurtures it and feeds it. She's a cold, emotional vampire, whose ego must feed off the affections of the living. Collecting her butterflies, she pins them through the heart to her board of trophies.
What are the signs?
1. In a circle of several guy friends, each one is under the impression that he shares a special connection with the coquette and that she is in some way interested in him.
2. Facebook. Notice the "wall" interactions. It's one thing to be hit up by tons of guys and to be kind about it. That's admirable. Nothing wrong with popularity and interaction/harmless flirting with the opposite sex. It's good to be alive. The coquette though will have lots of long drawn out and extensive dialogues with multiple guys who are clearly interested. They aren't hitting on her or flirting. They're relationship building, oblivious to one another due to - see sign 1.
3. The coquette absolutely cannot interact with the opposite sex without "baiting". This means going beyond flirting, to giving subtle indicators of interest. These are subtle clues that tell the male she's open to pursuit and receptive to potential mating. Males will pursue whether they've received these clues or not, but with them they let their emotional guard down and display their interest on a vulnerable and intimate level.
So keep your guard up gentlemen so you can spot a coquette when you come in contact with her. It can save you time, money and heartache. Don't become skeptical of all flirtations you receive. That would take the fun out of interaction. Just be aware.
If a girl does prove to be a coquette, drop the acquaintance and pay no heed to how "real" or "genuine" her interest or interaction seemed. Just get away from the drug. It might feel good in the moment, but you know it's not good for you and is slowly destroying you.
As we know from Casanova, there are far too many incredible women out there worth the courting. Avoid the coquette in pursuit of greater treasure.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
5 saved souls and Vonnegut
I recently read an article on Mitch Albom that focused on his career as a writer and his views on craft and storytelling. It mentioned the books he has written and among them was The Five People You Meet in Heaven.
Five people?
FIVE BLOODY PEOPLE!!!
I know the Bible says the gate is narrow that leads to salvation (or something like that), but five freakin' people?!? That's not even all the disciples!
"Welcome to Heaven. I'm Peter. This is Jack, Sarah, Diane and Bill. We're kind of a tight-knit bunch, but uh...don't let that intimidate ya. I suppose it's good to have a sixth around here."
Thanks Mitch Albom. Think I'll start panicking now.
People are willing to take these extraordinary chances to become writers, musicians or painters, and because of them, we have a culture. If this ever stops, our culture will die, because most of our culture, in fact, has been created by people that got paid nothing for it - people like Edgar Allan Poe, Vincent van Gogh or Mozart. -Kurt Vonnegut
Five people?
FIVE BLOODY PEOPLE!!!
I know the Bible says the gate is narrow that leads to salvation (or something like that), but five freakin' people?!? That's not even all the disciples!
"Welcome to Heaven. I'm Peter. This is Jack, Sarah, Diane and Bill. We're kind of a tight-knit bunch, but uh...don't let that intimidate ya. I suppose it's good to have a sixth around here."
Thanks Mitch Albom. Think I'll start panicking now.
People are willing to take these extraordinary chances to become writers, musicians or painters, and because of them, we have a culture. If this ever stops, our culture will die, because most of our culture, in fact, has been created by people that got paid nothing for it - people like Edgar Allan Poe, Vincent van Gogh or Mozart. -Kurt Vonnegut
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Southern Thunder Monster Truck Shootout
A few weeks ago, Cash and I went to the Southern Thunder Monster Truck Shootout in Fletcher at the Western North Carolina Agricultural Center. I'm just blogging about it now because I got wicked sick the following day and spent a week and a half wishing the pleasant peace of death would wash me over. It derailed me from the discipline I was establishing of posting fairly regular sub-par blog posts. I apologize to my faithful seven followers who trust me to produce my mediocrity with a slight hint of regularity. To those who read me in the shadows of anonymity I can only ask, can silence befall a voice crying out in the wilderness?
Well...let me attempt to reestablish the discipline...The monster truck shootout...It seems like a lifetime ago...
As Cash and I approached the arena they had two little booths off to the side where you could purchase tickets on the spot for $20. It was evening and it was already dark outside. One booth had lights on and two white people working inside it with a small line in front of it. The other booth was pitch black inside and appeared to be abandoned. I thought I saw some movement inside it though and noticed that there were two black women inside, waiting in the dark, to collect money and distribute tickets as well. I walked right up to the booth and avoided the line at the other station. Cash did the same. As I walked off I thought it was strange that they were straining to see and work in a pitch black booth. I then realized though that the flood of people flowing into the agricultural center were all Southern white folks with plenty of camouflage on. I was hit with a strange feeling. Did those women turn their light off to make their night easier...were they hiding...or were they put in a pitch black booth at an all white function out of some sort of "agenda"? I shook it off and joined the sea of Caucasians entering the building.
Seeing the dirt covered arena with several huge monster trucks parked around it and lines of cars waiting to be crushed was a bit of a thrill. This was my first monster truck event. The building was a bit smaller than I expected with a ceiling far lower than I imagined. It was definitely an agricultural center and not a sports complex or a civic center. The seating was quickly filling up as we gathered in this modern day Coliseum, ready to see rolling gladiators crush any poor sedan that came across their path. It was ancient Rome meets the modern day Confederate States of America. Cash and I found some decent seats and settled in for the action.
As we waited for the action to start I noticed vendors walking around with sticks of hanging earphones where one would normally see bales of cotton candy. I knew instinctually that I was too cool for this, but began looking around to see who was wearing them. It seemed that every child under seven was wearing a pair. I guess the parents just knew the protocol. Good idea, I thought. Protect the little ones' sensitive, developing eardrums. Moments later all the monster trucks began to turn on their vehicles and rev their engines in unison. I was hit with a wave of sound like I've never experienced before. It was like I had stuck my head in a jet engine. Everything in my head began to vibrate and I felt panicky like a mouse in a cage next to a radio that's been turned on to full blasts. I quickly scanned the arena to see if I could find any adults wearing the earphones. Not a one. Dare I take the plunge and be the only non-toddler wearing a pair? I love my hearing. Don't stick your fingers in your ears. Don't stick your fingers in your ears. Be cool. Be cool. You are cool. Hearing is overrated.
Throughout the course of the evening I never got use to decibels. I did my best to enjoy the show at hand, but I relished the moments when the trucks stopped. I felt like the panicked mouse for 75% of the proceedings. I couldn't stop thinking that this was meant for a larger arena like a civic center and that we were destroying ourselves by bringing something to town that was bigger than us. Why was I the only one bothered by this?
If the noise wasn't bad enough, the little arena began filling with car fumes and exhaust. We were leaving one hell of a carbon footprint. We were bathing in one hell of a carbon footprint. There were no vendors with sticks of gas masks or surgeon masks. I became equally worried about my health and future prospects of cancer as I was about my hearing loss.
If you have a chance to see a monster truck show in a large arena I would recommend it, but make sure it's a big venue. If it's not, bring earplugs from home for the sound and take two Klonopin before hand so that you're not worried about the fumes.
What did I learn?: If you spend two hours in a state of controlled panic, under heavy audible stress, while sucking an exhaust pipe, you will get very, very sick; your writing discipline will take a blow, and you will struggle to re-assume your online presence.
"Well ladies, the second booth doesn't have any lights so if you want you can carry around headphones during the event and sell them. We should be fine with just one ticket booth."
"Hell to the no, nigga. My black ass is selling tickets, light or no light. F*** that mess inside."
Well...let me attempt to reestablish the discipline...The monster truck shootout...It seems like a lifetime ago...
As Cash and I approached the arena they had two little booths off to the side where you could purchase tickets on the spot for $20. It was evening and it was already dark outside. One booth had lights on and two white people working inside it with a small line in front of it. The other booth was pitch black inside and appeared to be abandoned. I thought I saw some movement inside it though and noticed that there were two black women inside, waiting in the dark, to collect money and distribute tickets as well. I walked right up to the booth and avoided the line at the other station. Cash did the same. As I walked off I thought it was strange that they were straining to see and work in a pitch black booth. I then realized though that the flood of people flowing into the agricultural center were all Southern white folks with plenty of camouflage on. I was hit with a strange feeling. Did those women turn their light off to make their night easier...were they hiding...or were they put in a pitch black booth at an all white function out of some sort of "agenda"? I shook it off and joined the sea of Caucasians entering the building.
Seeing the dirt covered arena with several huge monster trucks parked around it and lines of cars waiting to be crushed was a bit of a thrill. This was my first monster truck event. The building was a bit smaller than I expected with a ceiling far lower than I imagined. It was definitely an agricultural center and not a sports complex or a civic center. The seating was quickly filling up as we gathered in this modern day Coliseum, ready to see rolling gladiators crush any poor sedan that came across their path. It was ancient Rome meets the modern day Confederate States of America. Cash and I found some decent seats and settled in for the action.
As we waited for the action to start I noticed vendors walking around with sticks of hanging earphones where one would normally see bales of cotton candy. I knew instinctually that I was too cool for this, but began looking around to see who was wearing them. It seemed that every child under seven was wearing a pair. I guess the parents just knew the protocol. Good idea, I thought. Protect the little ones' sensitive, developing eardrums. Moments later all the monster trucks began to turn on their vehicles and rev their engines in unison. I was hit with a wave of sound like I've never experienced before. It was like I had stuck my head in a jet engine. Everything in my head began to vibrate and I felt panicky like a mouse in a cage next to a radio that's been turned on to full blasts. I quickly scanned the arena to see if I could find any adults wearing the earphones. Not a one. Dare I take the plunge and be the only non-toddler wearing a pair? I love my hearing. Don't stick your fingers in your ears. Don't stick your fingers in your ears. Be cool. Be cool. You are cool. Hearing is overrated.
Throughout the course of the evening I never got use to decibels. I did my best to enjoy the show at hand, but I relished the moments when the trucks stopped. I felt like the panicked mouse for 75% of the proceedings. I couldn't stop thinking that this was meant for a larger arena like a civic center and that we were destroying ourselves by bringing something to town that was bigger than us. Why was I the only one bothered by this?
If the noise wasn't bad enough, the little arena began filling with car fumes and exhaust. We were leaving one hell of a carbon footprint. We were bathing in one hell of a carbon footprint. There were no vendors with sticks of gas masks or surgeon masks. I became equally worried about my health and future prospects of cancer as I was about my hearing loss.
If you have a chance to see a monster truck show in a large arena I would recommend it, but make sure it's a big venue. If it's not, bring earplugs from home for the sound and take two Klonopin before hand so that you're not worried about the fumes.
What did I learn?: If you spend two hours in a state of controlled panic, under heavy audible stress, while sucking an exhaust pipe, you will get very, very sick; your writing discipline will take a blow, and you will struggle to re-assume your online presence.
"Well ladies, the second booth doesn't have any lights so if you want you can carry around headphones during the event and sell them. We should be fine with just one ticket booth."
"Hell to the no, nigga. My black ass is selling tickets, light or no light. F*** that mess inside."
Monday, March 21, 2011
Song of the Open Road
"Allons! The road is before us!
It is safe -- I have tried it -- my own feet have tried it well -- be not detain'd!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! Let the money remain unearn'd!
Let the school stand! Mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! Let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.
Comerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?"
-Walt Whitman, "Song of the Open Road"
It is safe -- I have tried it -- my own feet have tried it well -- be not detain'd!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! Let the money remain unearn'd!
Let the school stand! Mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! Let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.
Comerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?"
-Walt Whitman, "Song of the Open Road"
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A day of bluegrass in Asheville.
As I drove towards Asheville on Friday I listened to the Avett Brothers's cd, "Emotionalism". The Avett Brothers aren't bluegrass, but they're a North Carolina band and it felt right for my drive to the Bluegrass First Class Festival. It was a clear, beautiful day and the soundtrack served me perfectly.
When I got to Asheville the Map App on my phone had me do a U-turn onto a major road without enough room for a U-turn. I almost got hit as I had to reverse in order to complete the maneuver. Less than half a mile later it had me cut across three lanes of major traffic on a strip of Interstate that was just 40 yards long. If I didn't make the exit I would be forced back onto another Interstate that would run me out of town. The cars were steady and constant, and I still don't quite know how I managed to do it without getting in a major accident. I guess all the driving in L.A. helped, but when I finally arrived at the Crowne Plaza Resort I thanked God that I was there in one piece.
I had to circle around the parking lot a few times to figure out where it was okay to park since some areas were off limits. On one of my trips I saw Junior Sisk walking through the lot with a couple of his band members. I immediately knew that this was going to be an intimate affair with plenty of potential interaction with the bands as opposed to a strict separation between performers and attendees. I almost rolled down my window and threw out a hearty, "Hey Junior!" as he walked by, but I decided to let him continue on without interruption.
The scene in the lobby was fairly chaotic with lots of people milling about and several large lines going different places. It was enough to immediately confuse all newcomers as to where they should go for what. It took me a few minutes to find the right line to claim my ticket in, and no sooner had I gotten in it than I saw the Ross brothers walk in with their instruments. Because of all the crowds they got held up right next to me giving me a chance to exchange a "hello" and a "welcome" with them. A couple ladies in their party ended up getting in line behind me since they didn't know where the bands were suppose to check in at. They were understandably a little frazzled since the Ross Brothers were opening in
the Sunken Lobby in less than 25 minutes. I told them I wasn't sure where the band check-in was, but offered them to take my spot in line so they could find out that much sooner. One of the ladies said they asked a gentleman who worked there where to go, but that he wasn't much help. I commented, "that's pretty messed up that you guys are opening the Sunken Lobby and no one can even direct you to the proper check in. You'd think being the opening act they wouldn't just leave you hanging like that." As soon as I finished my thought a hotel employee cleared his throat with disgust over my shoulder before offering to take the women to band check in. A few minutes later I got my VIP pass and a day of bluegrass began.
I alternated between performances in the Sunken Lobby and the Grand Ballroom. From 12:00pm - 6:00pm I saw the Ross Brothers, Junior Sisk and Ramblers Choice, The Grascals, Rhonda Vincent and the Rage, and Mountain Faith. They were all great performances. At six I went to the hotel bar for dinner. I almost put myself out of commission. I bought a chicken finger basket for much more than it should be, but a nice a couple from Virginia shared their large pizza with me making up for the pitiful serving of chicken fingers. While I got to know my new friends I drank three Guinness drafts on a stomach that was emptier than usual and on less sleep than I'm use to. I got really tired and wondered if I was still going to make it to midnight.
I wandered in a few minutes late to Junior Sisk's second performance of the day. He said in the first show that he was getting over the flu, but he still put on a great show. At this
performance you could tell he felt terrible and although he was doing his best it wasn't the same as the first one. I was really glad I caught them the first time around. I wandered out to the Sunken Lobby and caught the very end of Laurel Creek's performance. After that I went back to The Grand Ballroom for Rhonda Vincent's next show. She put on another great one and I got to meet her, Hunter Berry (violin), and Aaron McDaris (banjo) afterward. Rhonda signed her new cd, "Taken" for me and we took a picture together.
I made it back in to catch the very end of The Grascals second show which led into Daily and Vincent who were highlighting the event. Daily and Vincent put on a great and really entertaining show that ended around 12:15am. It was a great day of bluegrass that I'm really glad I was a part of.
When I got to Asheville the Map App on my phone had me do a U-turn onto a major road without enough room for a U-turn. I almost got hit as I had to reverse in order to complete the maneuver. Less than half a mile later it had me cut across three lanes of major traffic on a strip of Interstate that was just 40 yards long. If I didn't make the exit I would be forced back onto another Interstate that would run me out of town. The cars were steady and constant, and I still don't quite know how I managed to do it without getting in a major accident. I guess all the driving in L.A. helped, but when I finally arrived at the Crowne Plaza Resort I thanked God that I was there in one piece.
I had to circle around the parking lot a few times to figure out where it was okay to park since some areas were off limits. On one of my trips I saw Junior Sisk walking through the lot with a couple of his band members. I immediately knew that this was going to be an intimate affair with plenty of potential interaction with the bands as opposed to a strict separation between performers and attendees. I almost rolled down my window and threw out a hearty, "Hey Junior!" as he walked by, but I decided to let him continue on without interruption.
The scene in the lobby was fairly chaotic with lots of people milling about and several large lines going different places. It was enough to immediately confuse all newcomers as to where they should go for what. It took me a few minutes to find the right line to claim my ticket in, and no sooner had I gotten in it than I saw the Ross brothers walk in with their instruments. Because of all the crowds they got held up right next to me giving me a chance to exchange a "hello" and a "welcome" with them. A couple ladies in their party ended up getting in line behind me since they didn't know where the bands were suppose to check in at. They were understandably a little frazzled since the Ross Brothers were opening in
the Sunken Lobby in less than 25 minutes. I told them I wasn't sure where the band check-in was, but offered them to take my spot in line so they could find out that much sooner. One of the ladies said they asked a gentleman who worked there where to go, but that he wasn't much help. I commented, "that's pretty messed up that you guys are opening the Sunken Lobby and no one can even direct you to the proper check in. You'd think being the opening act they wouldn't just leave you hanging like that." As soon as I finished my thought a hotel employee cleared his throat with disgust over my shoulder before offering to take the women to band check in. A few minutes later I got my VIP pass and a day of bluegrass began.I alternated between performances in the Sunken Lobby and the Grand Ballroom. From 12:00pm - 6:00pm I saw the Ross Brothers, Junior Sisk and Ramblers Choice, The Grascals, Rhonda Vincent and the Rage, and Mountain Faith. They were all great performances. At six I went to the hotel bar for dinner. I almost put myself out of commission. I bought a chicken finger basket for much more than it should be, but a nice a couple from Virginia shared their large pizza with me making up for the pitiful serving of chicken fingers. While I got to know my new friends I drank three Guinness drafts on a stomach that was emptier than usual and on less sleep than I'm use to. I got really tired and wondered if I was still going to make it to midnight.
I wandered in a few minutes late to Junior Sisk's second performance of the day. He said in the first show that he was getting over the flu, but he still put on a great show. At this
performance you could tell he felt terrible and although he was doing his best it wasn't the same as the first one. I was really glad I caught them the first time around. I wandered out to the Sunken Lobby and caught the very end of Laurel Creek's performance. After that I went back to The Grand Ballroom for Rhonda Vincent's next show. She put on another great one and I got to meet her, Hunter Berry (violin), and Aaron McDaris (banjo) afterward. Rhonda signed her new cd, "Taken" for me and we took a picture together.I made it back in to catch the very end of The Grascals second show which led into Daily and Vincent who were highlighting the event. Daily and Vincent put on a great and really entertaining show that ended around 12:15am. It was a great day of bluegrass that I'm really glad I was a part of.
Monday, February 14, 2011
What vagabonding is not.
Vagabonding is not to be confused with a mere vacation, where the only goal is escape. - Rolf Potts
Likewise, vagabonding is not merely an extended or long-term vacation. It's not a series of vacations strewn together so as to avoid as much "work" and "responsibility" as possible. Vagabonding is in no way an escape or a distraction. If it were any of these things it would be an unhealthy, secondary pursuit drawing one away from the necessary and important things of life that should really hold one's attention and focus. This is why some people take a negative view of vagabonding and the vagabonding lifestyle. Some view others they hardly know with contempt for missing the ball and giving themselves completely to a life of "vacation" and "escape". Others view the one's they love with sadness and fear as they perceive them to be throwing away the important things of life to a point of no return. While these reactions can sometimes stem from a difference in philosophical viewpoint they can also result from one seeing vagabonding for what it is not rather than what it is.
The businessman father who hasn't tapped into the "Truth" and importance of religion thinks his son who is called to the ministry is making a foolish decision and is throwing away the blessings of life to devote himself to a false reality of sanctity and religious necessity. Similarly, the working father who sees a 40 hour a week job, a wife and kids, and a nuclear existence of material comforts and blessings as a "Truth" and faith in and of itself thinks his son who is called to a life of vagabonding is making a foolish decision and is throwing away the blessings of "security" and "stability" to devote himself to the frivolous and selfish pursuit of "constant vacation".
To truly understand the vagabonding lifestyle one must first stop "seeing" vagabonding for what it is not. This calls for understanding it for what it is.
True vagabonding is an art and a calling just like true ministry is an art and a calling. God calls individuals to be preachers because a full devotion allows one a deeper understanding that can be shared with the others who have received separate and no less important callings elsewhere. God calls individuals to be vagabonders because a full devotion to travel allows one a deeper understanding of the world and its inhabitants that can then be shared with others who have received a separate and no less important calling that doesn't allow for such intensive and extended travel. Just as the ministry is for a handful, vagabonding is for a handful as well. This doesn't mean that those who haven't been "called" to the ministry should cease from pursuing God on their own, just as those who haven't been "called" to vagabonding shouldn't cease from pursuing travel as they can. But it helps to realize that both these "callings" are meant for a handful and that no one is claiming that they are higher than other callings or that everyone should devote themselves to them. On the contrary not everyone should be vagabonders.
Once one sees vagabonding for what it is, differences of opinion towards it become philosophical as opposed to prejudiced misconceptions. It becomes a discussion of what is truly important in life; something that each man must answer for himself. As creatures geared towards "survival" who find safety in numbers and within the unit, we tend to view those who step outside the flow as reckless and self-destructive. Rarely do we recognize that evolution and growth as a species comes from healthy change within the foundation of what's already working. So while society continues to function on the stability that's gotten us to where we are, let us not crush the individuals stepping outside the mechanism allowing for the evolution of the species.
As a vagabonder, I encourage those who don't fully understand the calling and the lifestyle to take a first step and stop seeing vagabonding for what it is not. Should our philosophical differences remain at that point, so be it.
Vagabonding is -- at its best -- a rediscovery of reality itself. - Rolf Potts
Likewise, vagabonding is not merely an extended or long-term vacation. It's not a series of vacations strewn together so as to avoid as much "work" and "responsibility" as possible. Vagabonding is in no way an escape or a distraction. If it were any of these things it would be an unhealthy, secondary pursuit drawing one away from the necessary and important things of life that should really hold one's attention and focus. This is why some people take a negative view of vagabonding and the vagabonding lifestyle. Some view others they hardly know with contempt for missing the ball and giving themselves completely to a life of "vacation" and "escape". Others view the one's they love with sadness and fear as they perceive them to be throwing away the important things of life to a point of no return. While these reactions can sometimes stem from a difference in philosophical viewpoint they can also result from one seeing vagabonding for what it is not rather than what it is.
The businessman father who hasn't tapped into the "Truth" and importance of religion thinks his son who is called to the ministry is making a foolish decision and is throwing away the blessings of life to devote himself to a false reality of sanctity and religious necessity. Similarly, the working father who sees a 40 hour a week job, a wife and kids, and a nuclear existence of material comforts and blessings as a "Truth" and faith in and of itself thinks his son who is called to a life of vagabonding is making a foolish decision and is throwing away the blessings of "security" and "stability" to devote himself to the frivolous and selfish pursuit of "constant vacation".
To truly understand the vagabonding lifestyle one must first stop "seeing" vagabonding for what it is not. This calls for understanding it for what it is.
True vagabonding is an art and a calling just like true ministry is an art and a calling. God calls individuals to be preachers because a full devotion allows one a deeper understanding that can be shared with the others who have received separate and no less important callings elsewhere. God calls individuals to be vagabonders because a full devotion to travel allows one a deeper understanding of the world and its inhabitants that can then be shared with others who have received a separate and no less important calling that doesn't allow for such intensive and extended travel. Just as the ministry is for a handful, vagabonding is for a handful as well. This doesn't mean that those who haven't been "called" to the ministry should cease from pursuing God on their own, just as those who haven't been "called" to vagabonding shouldn't cease from pursuing travel as they can. But it helps to realize that both these "callings" are meant for a handful and that no one is claiming that they are higher than other callings or that everyone should devote themselves to them. On the contrary not everyone should be vagabonders.
Once one sees vagabonding for what it is, differences of opinion towards it become philosophical as opposed to prejudiced misconceptions. It becomes a discussion of what is truly important in life; something that each man must answer for himself. As creatures geared towards "survival" who find safety in numbers and within the unit, we tend to view those who step outside the flow as reckless and self-destructive. Rarely do we recognize that evolution and growth as a species comes from healthy change within the foundation of what's already working. So while society continues to function on the stability that's gotten us to where we are, let us not crush the individuals stepping outside the mechanism allowing for the evolution of the species.
As a vagabonder, I encourage those who don't fully understand the calling and the lifestyle to take a first step and stop seeing vagabonding for what it is not. Should our philosophical differences remain at that point, so be it.
Vagabonding is -- at its best -- a rediscovery of reality itself. - Rolf Potts
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Bluegrass First Class Festival
I recently bought a ticket for the 16th Annual Bluegrass First Class Festival in Asheville, North Carolina. It's a three day event taking place February 18th - 20th at the Crowne Plaza Resort. The entire resort has been reserved for bluegrass attendees. Tickets can be purchased for the entire weekend or for an individual day. I opted to purchase a Friday only VIP Pass for $45 as opposed to a Friday-Saturday pass for $90. Sunday is included in either purchase as free for all ticket holders of any kind. I believe they're holding a bluegrass worship service of sorts on Sunday, but I'll have to miss that for work. Since I live so close to Asheville I don't have to worry about hotel accommodations, although Crowne Plaza will be hosting many attendees.
My "Friday VIP All Access Pass" grants me entrance to anything going on that day as part of the festival. Along with impromptu jamming allowed throughout the resort with the exception of one "quiet wing", there will be workshops, classes, and constant performances from 12pm until 12 midnight. The performances take place in the Grand Ballroom and the Sunken Lobby, and both places feature a constant line-up of acts allowing you to pick and choose who you'd like to see throughout the day. The Grand Ballroom features the event's headliner acts and the Sunken Lobby features local and regional bands.
The headliner acts for Friday are:
The Grascals
Daily and Vincent
Rhonda Vincent and The Rage
Junior Sisk and Ramblers Choice
Lorraine Jordan and Carolina Road
The local and regional acts include (and are subject to change):
The Ross Brothers
Barbwire
Screech Owl Serenade
Rabon Creek
Mountain Faith
Bostic Yard
Laurel Creek
Sweet Tater Band
The main acts all perform twice in the Grand Ballroom allowing one to flexibly choose between the offering of main acts and local/regional talent. I haven't yet determined who I'll plan to see when, but I'm sure I'll catch all the headlining acts while supplementing them with some of the Sunken Lobby performances.
For more information about the event or if you're interested in purchasing tickets go to www.bluegrassfirstclass.com. I hope to see you there.
My "Friday VIP All Access Pass" grants me entrance to anything going on that day as part of the festival. Along with impromptu jamming allowed throughout the resort with the exception of one "quiet wing", there will be workshops, classes, and constant performances from 12pm until 12 midnight. The performances take place in the Grand Ballroom and the Sunken Lobby, and both places feature a constant line-up of acts allowing you to pick and choose who you'd like to see throughout the day. The Grand Ballroom features the event's headliner acts and the Sunken Lobby features local and regional bands.
The headliner acts for Friday are:
The Grascals
Daily and Vincent
Rhonda Vincent and The Rage
Junior Sisk and Ramblers Choice
Lorraine Jordan and Carolina Road
The local and regional acts include (and are subject to change):
The Ross Brothers
Barbwire
Screech Owl Serenade
Rabon Creek
Mountain Faith
Bostic Yard
Laurel Creek
Sweet Tater Band
The main acts all perform twice in the Grand Ballroom allowing one to flexibly choose between the offering of main acts and local/regional talent. I haven't yet determined who I'll plan to see when, but I'm sure I'll catch all the headlining acts while supplementing them with some of the Sunken Lobby performances.
For more information about the event or if you're interested in purchasing tickets go to www.bluegrassfirstclass.com. I hope to see you there.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Woody's Original Mountain Music
Last night, Cashflow and I set out into a gray, rainy evening in the mid-30's and headed for Marion, thankful that we didn't get the snow or ice that had been predicted all week. I had called Max Woody earlier in the afternoon to ask him a few questions about Woody's Original Mountain Music which is a free venue that takes place every Friday in Marion across from Max Woody's Chair Shop. He told me the weather there was about the same as Hendersonville, but that if it got worse he'd put me and Cashflow up for the night until we could get home. That was all I needed to hear to ease any concerns about the roads possibly freezing over, so we left around 5:15pm and headed towards the event.
When we arrived around 6:45pm, Mr. Woody went out of his way to greet us and make sure we got some spaghetti since we hadn't eaten yet. The spaghetti dinners were free, but they were asking for donations for a local family whose house had recently burned down. Cash and I gladly donated for our meals and to help the family. Everyone was very friendly and treated us like "family" from the moment we walked in. It reminded me of the atmosphere and reception you receive at a spirit-filled church gathering. As Cash and I set at a table off to the side eating our meals, several people came over and introduced themselves to us. At one point Mr. Woody came over and told us about the history of Foxfire; a regional organization of events and book publishing. He invited us to be his guests at the next Foxfire gathering and we told him we'd do so. He also told us to come back sometime so he could show us around his chair shop.
Around 7 0'clock the event opened with a prayer from a local pastor followed by the first of three bands. Woody's Original Mountain Music is a smaller, more intimate venue than the Bluegrass Music Jam or Old Fort Mountain Music. There's more of a focus on listening to the bands than on dancing and socializing. Dancing is permitted if one is so moved, but clogs aren't allowed since the noise would take away from the music
. Mr. Woody told us that 
this is one of the reasons he started this venue after parting ways with Old Fort Mountain Music. Those in attendance were predominately "older folks" with just a few who might have been mid-40's. Cash and I definitely stood out as the "young men" from Hendersonville.After the first band finished their set one of the band members came and sat next to me at the table off to the s
ide. We shared a plate of mini powdered doughnuts during the second band's set. This band played several Hank William's numbers among other things. At one point Mr. Woody joined them on fiddle to play "Freight Train". My dad use to play this song on guitar and sing it to me when I was little and it brought back a lot of memories.The third, and final, band was two gentlemen from Hickory, North Carolina who wer
e making their debut at the venue. One man played the fiddle and the other played a "green" banjo. His "green" banjo looks like a mini version of a regular banjo. I won't tell you why he calls it a "green" banjo in case you ever get a chance to catch these guys and hear the story yourself. Their set came with several comical stories that would be told between songs. This banjo player was a very good storyteller and a good entertainer. One of their numbers was an old Shaker song, and while I sat listening I couldn't help but feel that I was about as close as one in the 21st century could be to sharing an authentic musical experience of my Quaker ancestors, the early Brinton settlers in Pennsylvania. For one song the banjo player brought out his "dancing bear" and for the entire song he danced his bear (see picture below) while the fiddler played. He then let a couple people in the audience try dancing the bear during other songs. He also passed out some spoons at one point so that audience members could play the spoons along with them. Their debut performance was a real hit with the crowd and after their last song (the crowd was invited to sing "You Are My Sunshine" along with them; another song my dad sang to me as a small boy) they were heartily invited to return again sometime. Like them, I'm sure I'll do the same.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Murder in Savannah.
My parents recently passed along the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. My mother had definitely read it and my father is pretty sure he read it at one time. They both seemed to have remembered enjoying it, but their recollections were vague at best. I think I asked them out of curiosity what their motivation was for passing it along to me (as in why they thought of me and brought it, as opposed to any other book, across four States to put it in my possession), but my memory of their response is...vague at best. Maybe its genetic; this familial tendency to wander about in an apparent haze of apathetic ambiguity.
As I was reading it though, I felt a real connection to it. Not because of its nonfiction story set in Savannah, Georgia, which I've driven through, but never really spent any significant amount of time in, but rather in the author's connection to Savannah and his recounting of his experiences there as a form of storytelling travelogue. John Berendt is a writer who lived in New York who, after visiting Savannah, Georgia, ended up returning more and more until he found himself making it a second home. These are his words: "Over a period of eight years [...] my stays in Savannah became longer and my return trips to New York shorter. At times, I came to think of myself as living in Savannah. I found myself involved in an adventure peopled by an unusual assortment of characters and enlivened by a series of strange events, up to and including murder." As Berendt recounts his experiences, focusing heavily on a high-profile murder that took place during those eight years, it becomes evident that he was making it a point to "soak up" as much of Savannah and its people as he possibly could. Or, to use a phrase I'm fond of for explaining my time and focus in North Carolina, he wanted to "milk the area and the experience for all it was worth". This is where I really felt connected to Berendt and the story.
Similarly, Hendersonville, North Carolina was a place I visited with no intention of living during my time residing in Los Angeles, California and between moves from L.A. to Tokyo, Japan. An initial trip during that time turned into several small "visits" of varying lengths of duration. When I made up my mind to return to the States from Japan, for the first time I found myself thinking of Hendersonville as a place to live for awhile. Like Berendt, I moved from a major world city to a much smaller town and a drastically different lifestyle in the Southeast United States and chose to make it a home in an affection for the area and a desire to know it personally and on a deeper level. Also, like Berendt, my identity as a writer plays heavily into my time here and my focus.
Before my local friends and acquaintances become extremely self-conscious and wary of me let me say that I'm not currently planning on writing a specific memoir that would focus on and take place in Hendersonville and if I one day do so I will change names and protect friends as I do in my blog. I have no interest in airing anyone else's dirty laundry and I am the sole fool and laughing stock of my adventures. If anything I will one day tell a less focused story that would cover my time and experiences in Western North Carolina. Sure, Hendersonville and its inhabitants would play strongly in the tale, but it's not a current project. I'm also here as a vagabonder who wants to "milk the area and the experience for all its worth" outside of any writing motivations. It is inevitable, however, that as a writer it will find its way into my work whether directly or indirectly.
It was in this way though that I felt connected to John Berendt and the story he was telling in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Maybe my parents subconsciously recognized this connection even though they couldn't articulate it when I asked. Maybe they didn't recognize it at all, but it was one of those books that was suppose to find its way into my hands to better illuminate the path that I am meant to walk. Either way I'm glad I read this book. I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in Savannah, the Southeast and southern living, real-life crime, travel and travel writing, or vagabonding with a purpose. I wouldn't recommend it to those who demand their crime and mystery novels be full of gunfights, espionage, government cover-ups and involvement, and international crime syndicates. To assuage any literary concerns though I will pass along that Midnight... is a multi-year national bestseller.
If you've read this book I'd love for you to drop a comment and let me know what you thought of it. If you haven't read it do you think you ever will? I look forward to hearing from you.
As I was reading it though, I felt a real connection to it. Not because of its nonfiction story set in Savannah, Georgia, which I've driven through, but never really spent any significant amount of time in, but rather in the author's connection to Savannah and his recounting of his experiences there as a form of storytelling travelogue. John Berendt is a writer who lived in New York who, after visiting Savannah, Georgia, ended up returning more and more until he found himself making it a second home. These are his words: "Over a period of eight years [...] my stays in Savannah became longer and my return trips to New York shorter. At times, I came to think of myself as living in Savannah. I found myself involved in an adventure peopled by an unusual assortment of characters and enlivened by a series of strange events, up to and including murder." As Berendt recounts his experiences, focusing heavily on a high-profile murder that took place during those eight years, it becomes evident that he was making it a point to "soak up" as much of Savannah and its people as he possibly could. Or, to use a phrase I'm fond of for explaining my time and focus in North Carolina, he wanted to "milk the area and the experience for all it was worth". This is where I really felt connected to Berendt and the story.
Similarly, Hendersonville, North Carolina was a place I visited with no intention of living during my time residing in Los Angeles, California and between moves from L.A. to Tokyo, Japan. An initial trip during that time turned into several small "visits" of varying lengths of duration. When I made up my mind to return to the States from Japan, for the first time I found myself thinking of Hendersonville as a place to live for awhile. Like Berendt, I moved from a major world city to a much smaller town and a drastically different lifestyle in the Southeast United States and chose to make it a home in an affection for the area and a desire to know it personally and on a deeper level. Also, like Berendt, my identity as a writer plays heavily into my time here and my focus.
Before my local friends and acquaintances become extremely self-conscious and wary of me let me say that I'm not currently planning on writing a specific memoir that would focus on and take place in Hendersonville and if I one day do so I will change names and protect friends as I do in my blog. I have no interest in airing anyone else's dirty laundry and I am the sole fool and laughing stock of my adventures. If anything I will one day tell a less focused story that would cover my time and experiences in Western North Carolina. Sure, Hendersonville and its inhabitants would play strongly in the tale, but it's not a current project. I'm also here as a vagabonder who wants to "milk the area and the experience for all its worth" outside of any writing motivations. It is inevitable, however, that as a writer it will find its way into my work whether directly or indirectly.
It was in this way though that I felt connected to John Berendt and the story he was telling in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Maybe my parents subconsciously recognized this connection even though they couldn't articulate it when I asked. Maybe they didn't recognize it at all, but it was one of those books that was suppose to find its way into my hands to better illuminate the path that I am meant to walk. Either way I'm glad I read this book. I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in Savannah, the Southeast and southern living, real-life crime, travel and travel writing, or vagabonding with a purpose. I wouldn't recommend it to those who demand their crime and mystery novels be full of gunfights, espionage, government cover-ups and involvement, and international crime syndicates. To assuage any literary concerns though I will pass along that Midnight... is a multi-year national bestseller.
If you've read this book I'd love for you to drop a comment and let me know what you thought of it. If you haven't read it do you think you ever will? I look forward to hearing from you.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Old Fort Mountain Music
Flying solo this time, I left town again last night and headed for Old Fort, North Carolina. Old Fort is about a 45 minute drive northeast of Hendersonville. I chose to stick with the Interstates this time rather than taking the winding roads of the previous evening. Even on the Interstates, though, I still had some really nice scenery; distant mountain ranges with the sun setting behind them. My destination was Old Fort Mountain Music.Old Fort Mountain Music is a weekly event that takes place every Friday from 7pm until 10 or 11pm. It's been going on since 1986, and they claim to have never missed a night, even during the great blizzard when they came in to open the doors, even though no one could even get on the roads. If you're interested in the city of Old Fort check out www.oldfort.org. For more info on Old Fort Mountain Music go to www.oldfort.org/music.
When I arrived outside the venue I recognized one of the old men from the Bluegrass Music Jam practice room. I approached him and struck up conversation. He said he would have said something sooner the other night about the main concert being next door, but he assumed Systemic and I were musicians and that we knew what we were doing. He said a lot of times musicians will just pop in unannounced. I chatted with him a bit more then entered a small foyer of the building where a group was practicing.
Several older peop
le sat around the edges of the limited space listening, so I squeezed into the only remaining space in a corner and listened some myself. It was an all male group ranging from a young fiddle player with a long ponytail to several gentlemen with white hair. Some of their other instrumentation included banjo, guitar, bass, mandolin and I can't quite remember what else. They sounded really good and they were fun to watch. After several minutes I excused myself between one of their sets and entered the main building.It was a larger room than the Bluegrass Music Jam, and it was pretty full. The majority of the crowd was once again elderly, but there were more children, high-schoolers, and middle-agers than the night before. It was overall a good mix of all ages. Once again it was a BYOC (bring your own clogs) affair. The dance floor stayed lively with that clog-hybrid style that I've come to find as unique to these settings. I was tempted to ask a cute girl in attendance to teach me how to do it, but I'm terrible with age, and I wasn't sure where she fell in the 16-26 range. The last thing I wanted was to be pegged as the out of town predator within this tight-knit group. Not tonight Chris Hansen.
Early in the evening I bought a good-sized piece of fresh cake from the concession stand for just 50 cents. It was pound cake with a pineapple/coconut icing. I realize now that I should have gone back up and gotten a slice of coconut pie, but I got so into the music and the atmosphere that I forgot all about it. I sat next to an 80 year old man named Luther who was there with two of his siblings. Luther is the oldest of 12 kids. He said he's been attending the event for a
while. He knew and had played with several of the people who were framed in pictures on the wall. Throughout the night, previous musicians and patrons would come and speak to him and clearly had an affection for him. Luther use to pluck guitar, but due to a bad hand he now plays keyboard. He also owns a 1915 fiddle that's 5 years shy of being 100 years old. Luther and I treated each other to 25 cent coffees and exchanged comments about the bands throughout the evening.Old Fort Mountain Music is a lot of fun for free. If you do get hungry or thirsty, fresh cake and pie is just 50 cents and soda and coffee are only 25 cents. You get to hear multiple bands ranging from the very novice to the very advanced. You can spend the entire evening comfortably sitting in a chair watching or dancing away on a dance floor in the corner that's always full. (Clogs not required.) Best of all, you can meet some really neat people, like Luther, and make some new friends in the process.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Bluegrass Music Jam
Last night my buddy Systemic and I attended the Bluegrass Music Jam in Marion, North Carolina. This is a weekly event that takes place every Thursday and runs all year long. Marion is about an hour's drive northeast of our starting point in Hendersonville. Mapquest.com gave me two options for getting to Marion. One was to take an out and back route that was primarily Interstate and was suppose to be slightly quicker, and the other was a direct shot that avoided the Interstates as much as possible and shot through the mountains. Since we still had a little daylight left at the start of our trip I opted for the mountain route in order to enjoy the scenery and experience the drive.
Initially, I wasn't disappointed at all. It was beautiful driving with wonderfully "local" scenery. As we continued the road became more and more curvy while simultaneously becoming more and more up and down. I realized this might not be easy on a passenger so I asked Systemic if he ever gets car sick. He gave me a short reply of, "yes" and I felt bad for even planting the seed of car sickness in his head in the first place. I soon noticed that he was becoming quieter and quieter and that his breathing was a little more labored and sporadic. As someone who suffers from occasional motion sickness myself I immediately knew the signs. I felt really bad for him and tried to smooth my driving as much as possible.
About a mile down the road I suddenly realized that I was feeling a bit nauseous as well. A bit nauseous soon turned into super nauseous. It's the first time in my life I've actually made myself car sick while driving. Before last night I would have said it wasn't possible. "Shit man. I'm feeling sick now too," I told Systemic. We both commented that we started the trip with really empty stomachs. The conversation died down considerably and I kept wondering if I would have to pull the car over for one or both of us to throw up. Fortunately we made it to Marion without having to do so, but we both still felt really ill (especially Systemic) as we tried to put some food in our stomachs.
After a quick dinner we went to the Historic Marion Depot where the event was taking place. The depot is an old train station that's been converted to a small community center. There was a sign outside letting us know we were in the right place, but we didn't see any other people besides a handful inside the building. It looked like the office of a community center with three people playing instruments in the corner and three guys sitting around a conference table watching. I could see through the window that there was an older guy playing guitar, a guy about my age playing banjo, and girl around my age playing violin. It was super casual and looked like something that just came together on the spot. Systemic and I entered the room and one of the older men observing the apparently impromptu gathering of musicians turned and sized me up..."Hey boy." I smiled, quietly said hello, and Systemic and I helped ourselves to two conference chairs.
It initially felt really awkward after our entrance. I really had to fight hard not to start laughing because of the awkwardness of the situation and I couldn't look Systemic in the face. You could tell that the three older men observing the musicians were a little uncomfortable both with our presence and the confidence with which we assumed that presence. The musicians carried on in what seemed like a casual practice rather than a performance, but they still sounded really good and I was enjoying being exposed to the Bluegrass in such a "local" setting. No one spoke to Systemic and I between songs and I didn't feel it was our place to interject into their "jam session" not knowing whether viewers were meant to stay silent or not.
About 30 minutes in the guitar and banjo started playing "Dueling Banjos". I turned to Systemic and whispered over the music that it would have been funny if this was the song they were playing when we first walked in. One of the old guys heard me and asked, "Do you boys play?" Suddenly no one was playing and all eyes were on us. We told them that we don't play and that we came over from Hendersonville. "Oh...okay...You realize the big band is next door?" I told them we had no idea, made some comment about how good they sounded and after an exchange of laughter from both sides I excused myself. Systemic decided to stay at this random thrown together practice session, but I wanted to see the main event that I had come for.
I went next door and entered a long room that was full of people with a band down front playing and singing into microphones. The crowd seemed entirely local and was composed of mostly older people with two younger males. One looked like a high school Tiger Woods and the other had down syndrome. Several of the older men had ponytails. There was a small dance floor in front of the band where people danced in a style that was unique to the gathering. I would be comfortable joining them, but my "club" dancing would stand out just a little. It was like a combination of club dancing with very low-key clogging. Several of the women and a couple of the men had clogs on their shoes and you could hear the random "clicking" and "clacking" all around you as people walked about. I didn't see any open chairs so I had to stand in the
back.Eventually a chair opened up and I went and sat next to an elderly couple. "I haven't seen you here before," the lady commented. I told her it was my first time and asked about the band. She said they were called Common Ground. From my seat in the crowd I sat tapping my foot, thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere and realizing I was experiencing something special. The locals probably just think of it as a good time and a staple of the area, but this event was "local" and "cultural". I felt blessed to be a part of it.
After awhile I returned next door to join Systemic at the practice session. We stayed until everyone had left next door and the musicians from the Bluegrass Music Jam came in to pack up their instruments. One of the guitar players joined the three that had been practicing. Turns out he can play a little fiddle too.
After a while longer Systemic and I excused ourselves and bumped into one of Common Ground's guitar players / singers outside. I asked him how often they play the venue and he told us they were the house band and play every week unless another band shows up in which case they split time with them. Band member Mike Ennis went on to tell us about the band and some of the venues they play. He told us there's also a Common Ground that plays out of South Carolina so there's Common Ground: North Carolina and Common Ground: South Carolina.
For the drive home we decided to go the same way we had come in hopes that our stomachs would fare a little better with some food in them. I even stopped and got a chocolate shake from McDonalds just to fill mine up a little more. We both got sick again on the drive home and I almost ran over someone's Collie. The car sickness was totally worth it though. The Bluegrass Music Jam was an awesome experience and I hope to go back again sometime and introduce some of my friends and family to it.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
World Hum
World Hum is an online magazine of sorts that describes itself as "the best travel stories on the Internet". I tend to think of it as an online travel writing hub. If you're interested in checking it out click on the following link:
World Hum - http://worldhum.com
It's such a good source of stories and info, though, I hope you won't forget your ol' boy Mateo back here at The Mateo Chronicles. I'm going to have a lot more to share as I continue vagabonding North Carolina and elsewhere. Hell...as far as I see it, we haven't even started yet.
World Hum - http://worldhum.com
It's such a good source of stories and info, though, I hope you won't forget your ol' boy Mateo back here at The Mateo Chronicles. I'm going to have a lot more to share as I continue vagabonding North Carolina and elsewhere. Hell...as far as I see it, we haven't even started yet.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sites for Guidebooks
I'd like to share several websites where one can find the entire catalog of available titles from respected guidebook publishers. I've chosen to list them alphabetically rather than in order of personal preference. I'm not actually sure that I could put them in preferential order as that would change circumstantially each time based on my intended destination. This list should serve, though, as a great starting place and an excellent grab bag to choose from when you're trying to find a guidebook that will work for you.
Bradt Travel Guides: www.bradt-travelguides.com
Footprint Handbooks: www.footprintbooks.com
Let's Go Publications: www.letsgo.com
Lonely Planet Publications: www.lonelyplanet.com
Moon Handbooks: www.moon.com
Not For Tourists: www.notfortourists.com
Rick Steves: www.ricksteves.com
Rough Guides Travel: travel.roughguides.com
Travelers' Tales: www.travelerstales.com
More often than not, you can find these books at Amazon.com, and in many cases you'll have the option to "Look Inside". Purchasing through Amazon also means you can generally find your title at reduced prices. The nice thing about going to the above websites, though, is that you can see the entire catalog of a particular company's books, all in one place. Once you find a title that you're interested in you can go to Amazon to "Look Inside" and compare prices.
My most recent purchase (at a local bookstore) was Moon Handbooks: North Carolina. This purchase is only several days old.
If you have a favorite guidebook from the list above, or from a company that I failed to mention, drop a comment and let us know about it. How about a great traveling story or debacle involving a particular guidebook?
Happy reading and happy traveling!
Bradt Travel Guides: www.bradt-travelguides.com
Footprint Handbooks: www.footprintbooks.com
Let's Go Publications: www.letsgo.com
Lonely Planet Publications: www.lonelyplanet.com
Moon Handbooks: www.moon.com
Not For Tourists: www.notfortourists.com
Rick Steves: www.ricksteves.com
Rough Guides Travel: travel.roughguides.com
Travelers' Tales: www.travelerstales.com
More often than not, you can find these books at Amazon.com, and in many cases you'll have the option to "Look Inside". Purchasing through Amazon also means you can generally find your title at reduced prices. The nice thing about going to the above websites, though, is that you can see the entire catalog of a particular company's books, all in one place. Once you find a title that you're interested in you can go to Amazon to "Look Inside" and compare prices.
My most recent purchase (at a local bookstore) was Moon Handbooks: North Carolina. This purchase is only several days old.
If you have a favorite guidebook from the list above, or from a company that I failed to mention, drop a comment and let us know about it. How about a great traveling story or debacle involving a particular guidebook?
Happy reading and happy traveling!
Friday, January 21, 2011
The traveling bigot?
Is there such a thing as a traveling bigot? One of my favorite authors, Mark Twain, doesn't think so.
Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, narrow-mindedness, all foes of real understanding. Likewise tolerance, or broad wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime. -Mark Twain
I would offer, though, that there are a few exceptions:
BIG BUCKS BUSINESS MAN
This traveler arrives in style and immediately travels that way to his 5-star hotel. He can tell you the best hotels of every country along with the intricate customs of their boardrooms. His idea of experiencing a culture is to see what's on TV and order a local prostitute. His trip is all about business, money, and luxury. He gets in, achieves his goal, and gets out. He's been to many places throughout the world, but the only thing that's changed about him is his portfolio. Like a man who eats only cotton candy, he feels full and well-fed from his travels, but has missed all his nutrients. "I," he will tell you, "know how to travel".
Exception: The business person who loves travel and sees business trips as a way to experience new places. While the main purpose of the trip is business, this person takes every opportunity they get to truly explore their destination. Lets call this person the "vagabonder with a briefcase".
BRING THE PAIN SOLDIER
This traveler takes all his prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness into battle, and on the road, with him. The horrors of war feed these negative aspects of his personality and they grow worse. He believes his country to be the only one with any redeeming value. Everyone else is just a camel jockey, gook, infidel, etc. He returns home damaged and more bigoted than before he left. He traveled not to discover the world, but to confront and defeat it.
Exception: All the wonderful men and women who serve their countries out of patriotism and loyalty. Their motivation is to protect freedom and their fellow citizens. They serve because it's necessary and honorable, but they still consider themselves world citizens.
THE CLOSED-MINDED CRUSADER
This traveler seeks to save (or destroy) all the wretched, vile, non-believers of the world. He looks down on everyone, everywhere he goes. He believes the locals have so much to learn from him, while he has nothing to learn from them. He is there to espouse doctrine and for no other reason. He's willing to rough it and get hands-on with the locals, but he in no way respects them as equals. No amount of contact will ever change this. He's traveling like the best, but learning nothing in the process.
Exception: All the wonderful missionaries sharing their Truth in peace and love. They learn and teach in a healthy cultural exchange. Lets call them "spiritual vagabonders".
THE INTERNATIONAL FRAT BOY
This traveler thinks the world is a giant frat party. The main purpose of the trip is drinking, drugs, and sex. Everything else is just periphery. Often times a student, or of student age, they can blend in well with other travelers. The difference? They aren't learning or growing. They might have left with that intention, but they're overcome by the urge to join the party and never stop. They can tell some great stories and relay a little cultural information, but they come home the same person who left.
Exception: Serious students studying abroad or traveling for the right reasons. Lets call them "university vagabonders". Also, those vagabonders who keep their drinking and sex in moderation and enjoy it responsibly on the periphery.
BUBBLE BOY
This person travels, but never gets out of their comfort zone. They might walk the streets, but it's as though they're in a bubble. They don't touch the culture and the culture doesn't touch them. They eat at McDonald's and all the places of home. They listen incessantly to their Ipod which plays all their music from home and spend most of their time online talking to friends from back home.
Exception: Every traveler who boldly steps outside of their bubble and leaves it behind.
So while Mark Twain's quote is a great one, remember that there are exceptions. Look for them while your on the road and see if you can spot them. Most importantly, make sure that you don't become one yourself.
Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, narrow-mindedness, all foes of real understanding. Likewise tolerance, or broad wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime. -Mark Twain
I would offer, though, that there are a few exceptions:
BIG BUCKS BUSINESS MAN
This traveler arrives in style and immediately travels that way to his 5-star hotel. He can tell you the best hotels of every country along with the intricate customs of their boardrooms. His idea of experiencing a culture is to see what's on TV and order a local prostitute. His trip is all about business, money, and luxury. He gets in, achieves his goal, and gets out. He's been to many places throughout the world, but the only thing that's changed about him is his portfolio. Like a man who eats only cotton candy, he feels full and well-fed from his travels, but has missed all his nutrients. "I," he will tell you, "know how to travel".
Exception: The business person who loves travel and sees business trips as a way to experience new places. While the main purpose of the trip is business, this person takes every opportunity they get to truly explore their destination. Lets call this person the "vagabonder with a briefcase".
BRING THE PAIN SOLDIER
This traveler takes all his prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness into battle, and on the road, with him. The horrors of war feed these negative aspects of his personality and they grow worse. He believes his country to be the only one with any redeeming value. Everyone else is just a camel jockey, gook, infidel, etc. He returns home damaged and more bigoted than before he left. He traveled not to discover the world, but to confront and defeat it.
Exception: All the wonderful men and women who serve their countries out of patriotism and loyalty. Their motivation is to protect freedom and their fellow citizens. They serve because it's necessary and honorable, but they still consider themselves world citizens.
THE CLOSED-MINDED CRUSADER
This traveler seeks to save (or destroy) all the wretched, vile, non-believers of the world. He looks down on everyone, everywhere he goes. He believes the locals have so much to learn from him, while he has nothing to learn from them. He is there to espouse doctrine and for no other reason. He's willing to rough it and get hands-on with the locals, but he in no way respects them as equals. No amount of contact will ever change this. He's traveling like the best, but learning nothing in the process.
Exception: All the wonderful missionaries sharing their Truth in peace and love. They learn and teach in a healthy cultural exchange. Lets call them "spiritual vagabonders".
THE INTERNATIONAL FRAT BOY
This traveler thinks the world is a giant frat party. The main purpose of the trip is drinking, drugs, and sex. Everything else is just periphery. Often times a student, or of student age, they can blend in well with other travelers. The difference? They aren't learning or growing. They might have left with that intention, but they're overcome by the urge to join the party and never stop. They can tell some great stories and relay a little cultural information, but they come home the same person who left.
Exception: Serious students studying abroad or traveling for the right reasons. Lets call them "university vagabonders". Also, those vagabonders who keep their drinking and sex in moderation and enjoy it responsibly on the periphery.
BUBBLE BOY
This person travels, but never gets out of their comfort zone. They might walk the streets, but it's as though they're in a bubble. They don't touch the culture and the culture doesn't touch them. They eat at McDonald's and all the places of home. They listen incessantly to their Ipod which plays all their music from home and spend most of their time online talking to friends from back home.
Exception: Every traveler who boldly steps outside of their bubble and leaves it behind.
So while Mark Twain's quote is a great one, remember that there are exceptions. Look for them while your on the road and see if you can spot them. Most importantly, make sure that you don't become one yourself.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Japan on a Budget
A lot of people assume that Japan is an extremely expensive place to travel to, and it certainly can be if one doesn't take care to cut costs as necessary according to their budget. Like any major world city, Japan can drain your finances in a week or house you comfortably for an extended period based on your lifestyle choices and the way you spend that precious Yen. I was able to live comfortably in Tokyo for four months without a job and still return to the States with money in savings. I won't go into all the details as to the exact way that I was able to do that, as that would be a longer, more detailed post than I plan to write at the moment, but I'd like to share a link to an article by Denise Tench titled, "11 Ways to Save Big on a Trip to Japan".
11 Ways to Save Big on a Trip to Japan
There are lots of other tips and methods for making your trip to Japan affordable, but those are just a handful to get you started. When you're ready to actually start planning your trip I would definitely encourage you to get in touch with someone who has been there, or better yet lived there, who can provide you with more detailed and specific information that will be helpful.
Japan is an incredible place that's full of interesting and wonderful people. It can be both accessible and affordable to the determined and well-informed traveler. It can also be an addictive place that never quite leaves a person once they've experienced it.
11 Ways to Save Big on a Trip to Japan
There are lots of other tips and methods for making your trip to Japan affordable, but those are just a handful to get you started. When you're ready to actually start planning your trip I would definitely encourage you to get in touch with someone who has been there, or better yet lived there, who can provide you with more detailed and specific information that will be helpful.
Japan is an incredible place that's full of interesting and wonderful people. It can be both accessible and affordable to the determined and well-informed traveler. It can also be an addictive place that never quite leaves a person once they've experienced it.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Continuing Education
Most people have trouble understanding the mindset of a 30 year old male who is more interested in traveling the world than finding a wife, securing a "great" job, buying a house, and starting a family. To reconcile this lack of understanding with the human need to categorize the vast majority will label said 30 year old as "lazy", "aimless", "confused", "irresponsible", "selfish", "misguided", or any other number of negative titles. I would offer, however, that it's quite the opposite, and that our subject is responding to a very personal calling. A calling that, not too unlike the ministry, is certainly not for everyone, but can lead those called to a deeper understanding of their subject and a new level of enlightenment. In this case, that subject is the world and its inhabitants. Also, much like the calling to the ministry, it demands a certain amount of sacrifice in order to live within its blessing. And when people don't understand a calling, they certainly won't understand the sacrifice. But what a blessing to gain a deeper understanding and reach a new level of enlightenment concerning the world and its inhabitants!
The discoveries that come with travel have long been considered the purest form of education a person can acquire. -Rolf Potts
Author, Rolf Potts, refers to this calling as "vagabonding", which is how I too shall refer to it from now on. I've had the vagabonding spirit ever since I saw "Big Bird Goes to China" as a small child. I went on to dabble in it throughout my life including a stint in Spain along with many other trips throughout America and the world. I didn't completely answer the calling until age 25 when I retired and moved to L.A. That's right. My name is Mateo and I'm a vagabonder.
The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page. -Saint Augustine
Vagabonding is a form of continuing, or continual, education. Right now, I'm not living in North Carolina so much as vagabonding here. There is a difference. If you stick with me in 2011 and beyond, what I mean by that will become more clear. I plan to focus heavily on vagabonding and the vagabonding lifestyle. For now, I will leave you with one more quote from Rolf Potts that might shine some more light on the difference I just mentioned.
You don't stand to grow much from your travels if you just skim your way through the world at random. -Rolf Potts
The discoveries that come with travel have long been considered the purest form of education a person can acquire. -Rolf Potts
Author, Rolf Potts, refers to this calling as "vagabonding", which is how I too shall refer to it from now on. I've had the vagabonding spirit ever since I saw "Big Bird Goes to China" as a small child. I went on to dabble in it throughout my life including a stint in Spain along with many other trips throughout America and the world. I didn't completely answer the calling until age 25 when I retired and moved to L.A. That's right. My name is Mateo and I'm a vagabonder.
The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page. -Saint Augustine
Vagabonding is a form of continuing, or continual, education. Right now, I'm not living in North Carolina so much as vagabonding here. There is a difference. If you stick with me in 2011 and beyond, what I mean by that will become more clear. I plan to focus heavily on vagabonding and the vagabonding lifestyle. For now, I will leave you with one more quote from Rolf Potts that might shine some more light on the difference I just mentioned.
You don't stand to grow much from your travels if you just skim your way through the world at random. -Rolf Potts
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Knock knock.
(knock knock)
2011: Who is it?
MateoChronicles: Mateo.
2011: ...yes?
MateoChronicles: Open up before I kick this door down.
2011: ...excuse me?
MateoChronicles: It's Mateo. Open up.
Hello 2011. It's a new decade. The 30's. The foundation's been laid, and now it's time to start building. Stay tuned.
2011: Who is it?
MateoChronicles: Mateo.
2011: ...yes?
MateoChronicles: Open up before I kick this door down.
2011: ...excuse me?
MateoChronicles: It's Mateo. Open up.
Hello 2011. It's a new decade. The 30's. The foundation's been laid, and now it's time to start building. Stay tuned.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)