Right. I am finally taking my own titular advice to heart and heading off for a little bit of living. A little bit of living in the now. I have amassed a successful-suicide-attempt-level amount of the various medications I’m semi-addicted to, I’ve bought two canisters of Regaine anti-balding cream and I’ve got hold of three massive, experimental novels (Infinite Jest, Ulysses and The Savage Detectives), and am readying myself for an obnoxiously people-avoiding and literary Summer spent in various countries bordering the Med. Med-hopping, you could call it. This Summer I shall be Med-hopping.
I wanted to travel for a bit, get outside my comfort zone, etc etc etc, but I felt like most of the initial routes I could think of had already been done by someone else I knew well. And, being far, far, too repressed to go “find myself” amongst the arseholes, cunts and drugs of the Far East, I decided that seven weeks prancing around Southern Europe and North Africa should get me just about as far from “myself” as I’m prepared to go. And, more importantly, I don’t know anyone else who’s made the identical trip.
So, as to the short-term future of this blog, I intend to furnish it with occasional travel anecdotes (ideally as serious/mundane as possible – I want to at no point imply I am enjoying myself, I’m not going to be an “I’m having such an amazing time” travel blogger, far from it), casual comments on the books that I’m reading, as well as my lonely, misanthropic thoughts as I avoid all meaningful human contact for as long as possible. It’s going to be great!
(I’ll also try to put up some nice photos.)