Losing stuff is a fine way to go about life. It is often the only way we can realize what is actually important. I tend not to lose or misplace things, but that is mostly due to how angry I get at myself when it does happen. Keeping my wallet, keys, and phone in one designated spot may also be a bit of undiagnosed OCD (though I’m told by real sufferers that it’s actually CDO, in alphabetical order).

For anyone who has ever smelled smoke and not been able to locate the fire knows the feeling. That sinking gut feeling that things may get a lot worse. When I lived in the San Diego warehouse, I lived next to a scrap yard. I was there, digging about the old doors and window frames when I caught the delicate and charming aroma of burning mattresses. Of course at the time I had no idea what the fire was feasting upon, but looking up to the sky I knew it was a smokey treat. My legs intuitively sprinted to the warehouse, my chest bursting with that low sinking feeling that everything you own is gone.

But as my brain caught up to my pounding heart, I realized that there was nothing in the warehouse that couldn’t be replaced. I owned nothing that actually mattered, and suddenly I realized I was free. Well figuratively. In truth, I had no renters insurance and my student loans weren’t locked inside, ready to be burned up and forgotten. So there would be the annoyance of replacing my passport and things, and having to buy new clothes and other junk. And of course the student loans will always be there. But other than that, losing stuff isn’t that big of a deal.

Starting fresh has its benefits. I’m always amazed when I see a new Facebook blast go out about losing a phone, ‘I need your numbers’. Losing a cellphone can be the ideal time to let go of all those booty call numbers and folks you don’t actually like but you keep them in your phone in case they call you first. You know the ones…

Oh, right. So that warehouse fire was actually just some mattresses that some kids lit on fire in the alley. Me and a neighbor put it out with some garden hoses and expired fire extinguishers. Still, it opened my eyes and put the fear of Zeus into me.

We are officially traveling overseas now, wandering slowly about the globe. The above photo is what I’m currently traveling with, for better or worse. Nothing I’m traveling with is all that important, and at this point in my life, anything lost or stolen will simply make my travels a bit lighter.

There is a bright side to fires and losing things. When you’ve got little to lose, you’re free to do what you please.

I’ve been more quiet than usual since temporarily relocating to Florida. Meg and I landed some interim employment- she at a wine bar and me at a tourist restaurant. Both locations sat right on the beach, so back to serving we were. These past ten weeks have given us a healthy padding to our travel funds.

As anyone who has worked in the food and beverage industry knows, there is an initial grace period where your subconscious is flooded with food orders and menu questions and pretty soon you’re having awful dreams about forgetting someone’s water. Unfortunately, I’ll even have these dreams about missing a class in college and realizing I hadn’t gone all semester and it’s the final week and of course, it’s always a damn math class.

Know what I mean?

Anyhow, Meg and I are preparing to leave Florida for a few short days in Chicago (the perfect layover). We have booked our one way ticket out of this fine country of ours and into the land of green, lucky charms, leprechauns, Guinness, and whisky.

Yes, Ireland.

So now I can have my dreams back. No more waking up in the middle of the night questioning myself about menu specials, that party table , or did I even put their order in? No! I can demand my dreams back.

Symbolism aside, I’ve been asking people about their hobbies, life goals, and dreams. To my astonishment, a surprising amount of people had no answers. I realize that the blog world is heavily inspired by Four Hour Work Week folks, dreamers, and people who are at least asking themselves the existential questions of life and their purpose. But it seems to me that a sad lot of people simply aren’t dreaming. They aren’t even pushing for more.

So my realization is simple: you can’t demand your dreams if you aren’t dreaming in the first place.

You can push through crap jobs, awkward living situations, long hours, small wages, uninspired friends, and any other hiccups life can toss your way because you have a vision of bigger things for your life. But you have to at least know what it is you want.

And even if you don’t know what you want, at least figure out what you don’t want. Start there.

Post-script: if you’re in Europe at all this summer and would like to meet up for a tea or a pint, or even a good old fashioned picnic, drop me a line! We plan to head through the Middle East by fall, aiming to hit the trans Siberian train before winter, so the same invite to anyone along the way!

There is a popular movement nowadays of artists, bloggers, and regular folks talking about themselves and the importance of doing. We encourage each other, and ourselves, to create, to write, to build, to do! If you’re not part of the creativity, then you are wasting your time. If you’re working a 9-5 job, then your life has very little meaning or at least, you are fully free to feel down about yourself.

For the most part, I’d like to continue encouraging one another to fill their lives with passion. I still believe in our golden age. I still believe that we owe it to all of human history  to do spectacular things with our days. Right now. But recently I’ve had a revelation of sorts. There is a secondary position we all must take too. And, in history, this space has always been held and fulfilled. And today, we need these people too.

Supporters.

Wait! This isn’t boring stuff here. This is perhaps more important than your own pursuits, your artwork, your music, your life. This is about the future of greatest sitting amongst our present.

We cannot have our Vincent Van Gogh without our Theo Van Gogh. Theo was Vincent’s brother, and arguably the only reason that we have the brilliant mind and art of Vincent. And let me connect the dots for you. Vincent Van Gogh is often considered one of the most important artists to ever live. He inspired movements that influence film and art still today. If you still need convincing, watch this short clip here.

Theo was Vincent’s emotion crutch, his greatest support. Vincent depended on the praise and enthusiasm that Theo provided. His unstable mental state was frail and constantly at risk of falling apart. Theo not only mentally kept his brother going, but he also financially supported Vincent too. Remember, Vincent sold only one painting in his lifetime.

Theo wasn’t just Vincent’s brother. He was well known and respected in his age for his contributions and work as an art dealer. So, you can keep your normal job and still play an important role in history.

We are often only interested in the immediate returns on our investments. Today, his investment is considered priceless, though if one had to put a number on it, it would be considered the highest price in art history.

So consider who you can and should support. Theres an artist, a writer, a musician who needs some support right now. Mentally, emotionally, financially. They may not even believe in their skills yet. So be that support.

Some folks are the mad artists, and some are the silent supporters. We all have someone to invest in.

Of course, that doesn’t give you an excuse not to create. But you know, now you have something even more important to do.

During the early 1990s, people were crazed about two things: grunge music and coffee. Now this isn’t something I’ve thoroughly researched, but I imagine even the folks at the University of Cambridge felt this way at least about coffee. You see, the researchers in the computer laboratories had a dilemma, or rather an inconvenience. There was one kitchen, and as you’d guess, only one pot of coffee. In a seven story building, this could cost a great deal of time and energy just to check to see if the coffee is ready. (And think of all the stairs!)

Because the sole coffee pot had to fuel the bellies of many hardworking academics, it had to always be available, hot and fresh and full. So before even the birth of the Internet, these crafty magicians wired up and created the first webcam. Yes, that’s right. The first webcam was created out of an inconvenience for coffee.

We must be inconvenienced in order to find out what is a neccessity, which is why the wise folks say that necessity is the mother of all invention. We create greatness when we embrace inconvenience.

G. K. Chesterton explains that an inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered. So, create an adventure. Embrace inconvenience. Or in the very least you just may create something we all now need.

Sources: 1, 2, 3

Memories are a strange thing. So much of life goes by without ever becoming a memory. The memories we often want to keep are the ones that slip away. And of course, conversely, the things we most often want to forget are the ones we keep within us. So really, most of life is lived without retaining it mentally. Sure we have an abundance of photos, videos, tweets, and whatever else to help us remember everything that happens in our lives. Think about the kids who are growing up entirely on Facebook. I’m thankful my awkward teen years are not digitally archived.

Recently I’ve begun to write down every memory I have. A humbling exercise in writing, but also it is a chimera inducing project that may never have a completion date. Writing aside, this experiment has made me feel more in touch with myself. After all, who are we without our pasts? Of course, I’m a sucker for nostalgia. That coupled with constant reflection of everything and anything, most of my days are now spent connecting them with the past. Since I tend to be an optimistic, positive person, most of my memories are that way too. Even the sad memories are peaceful in their passing.

Dont be confused though. I’m not wistfully daydreaming my life away. On the contrary, I have only spent a minimal amount of time developing these memories into complete stories on paper.

One thing that has happened though, is that I’ve realized how little matters except the present moment. Looking back on people and things that at the time were my whole world, and now today have been reduced to a few paragraphs worth of memories puts life in perspective.

Reflecting on the past means you’re presently living in that memories future. It seems strange to me that memories never seem to care about the future. Take a moment to digest that. The same future you had all those dreams and questions about, is exactly your present moment. And again, in ten years, maybe five, you’ll be at the same place- your past’s future. I realize this seems quite complicated, but it is important.

In the very least, your present depends on it.

I realize this post may be awkward or confusing, or perhaps just poorly written. I didn’t do the topic justice, but I had to at least get the thoughts out there. I happily welcome thoughts and criticisms.

A year ago today this blog was birthed into this world. So, in celebration of a year of learning, experimenting, experiencing, and even some achieved life goals, I ask you to please share something with me here.

Link your blog and other blogs you can recommend in the comments below. If you’re not into leaving comments, send me an email: davidwilliamjr@gmail.com

Dig through your RSS feeds and email lists. Or if there’s anything at all that gets you going, keeps your attention, challenges you, or anything at all. I’m looking to expand my fields of knowledge and interests, so please share generously!

Thank you for reading, engaging, and sharing.

To another year!

February 8th, 2012

By far the most common email I get is in response to my (recently former) warehouse living art space. Though my piece on not using shampoo for six months received over 40k views, I rarely ever get emails about that. Yet, I get at least 2-3 emails a week on how to find and how to live in a warehouse, so it has inspired me to compose this guide of sorts.

Tips on finding, building, and living in an unconventional space.

The search:

Okay, so first be sure you’re serious about this. In my experience, unconventional spaces come with a lot of patience testers and flexibility is a must. Bad landlords and rough neighborhoods are often just the start. Be warned.

Craigslist is a fine place to start. Search words like commercial, industrial, light industrial, warehouse, factory, post office, office spaces, malls, church, library, bomb shelter, horse stables,… You see the trend. Get creative here. Your future live in/art space is only limited by you.

Go beyond the web though. Drive or walk around the light industrial areas and commercial parts of town. A lot of the prime spaces never see the light of the internet. Either they dont know how to use it, or they just cant be bothered. Immigrant neighborhoods often have gems like this. While exploring new neighborhoods, the more decreptitude the better. You’re probably looking for cheap, so get adventurous. Live in a rough neighborhood for a year or two and you’ll likely realize it’s hardly as bad as everyone wants to believe. Theres a life lesson in there somewhere.

Its in your best interest to not interrupt the flow of your art and creation, so of course you’ll want things like a kitchenette, a toilet, a shower, a bed. Remember it’s only unusual if you act like its unusual. For you, it’s an essential part of any creative space.

Get friends involved. The more people to go in on this endeavor, the better. It will help keep costs down and surrounding yourselves with other creative folks will help you. Remember, show me your friends and I’ll show you your future.

Price:

This one can be tough, depending on your budget, amount of people involved, and locale. Remember most places are flexible on the rent so don’t be afraid to negotiate. Another suggestion I often have for people is for when you come across a space that is too huge for you. Talk to the person, see if you can put up divider walls to make the space you want to rent smaller and thus more affordable. I’ve seen it done. Also, ask them if they know of any smaller spaces available.

I managed to rent over 1500 square feet, plus a huge gated yard in one of the roughest neighborhoods of San Diego (hint: it was featured on Gangland). I split it with a friend. We paid $1400/ month. Total. Don’t let anybody tell you it isn’t possible.

What to tell the owner:

So you find an ideal spot, but you don’t know how to tell the landlord you want to live there. Well my advice: don’t! Remember, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides, artists keep strange hours. Let them know you’ll be coming and going at odd hours. in my experience they often expect you to end up living there, but it’s in their best interest to not know. Ignorance is bliss for you. And even if they confront you on it, deny it. You don’t live there. In extreme situations, keep an alternative address if you really need to sell the story. Of course, I’m not a lawyer and this isn’t all sound advice. Don’t be an asshole and you should be fine.

How to do the building (even if you aren’t a builder):

Pending your budget, you can always find willing affordable laborers at your nearest Home Depot. Support your local economies! Alright, so you want to do it yourself but you may not believe in yourself all that much… Well, get tough, hit google, then youtube, ask around, and be adventurous.

Really, most projects I’ve undertaken have been with limited initial knowledge. But since around here we believe in making our own damn luck, it’s time to buckle down and DIY. The folks at places like Lowes or Home Depot are more than willing to help you along. I had never built my own staircase from scratch, so I looked up some building strategies online, asked around for additional advice, took all the safety precautions necessary, and built a damn staircase strong enough to hold eleven elephants and dancing manatee.

Most stores offer discounts on slightly damaged building supplies. By that I simply mean drywall with chipped corners, wood cut strange sizes, etc. Everything you can use for a fraction of the price. Also look to barter or rent tools and services. Everyone’s hurting these days, so everything counts.

Move in and other living fun stuff:

There are plenty of people doing this stuff for a lot longer than I’ve been at it. I knew some guys who had an informal skatepark in their industrial loft. A friend of mine in Chicago rented an old VFW hall with a huge stage and 20 ft ceilings. I couchsurfed at a hip spot called the Nerditorium in Austin Texas, where a few guys turned a normal enough condo into a creativity incubator. A friend of mine in Colorado is building his place out of shipping containers. A family bought the library in my childhood hometown and turned in into a gorgeous house. In my studio I built a platform for a couch so we could have stadium seating for our projector theatre. We even had a surfboard shaping and glassing room. Get your space and share it back here. I’m certain there are plenty of spaces out there waiting for someone to get creative in them.

Dig around the web for more ideas. There are even Flickr groups dedicated to documenting unconventional living spaces, so steal some inspiration there!

Lastly:

If you have an unconventional living space, please get in touch with me. I’d like to keep connecting with folks that do this, and perhaps we can even collaborate on a future feature here! If you have any other questions or thoughts, let me know! davidwilliamjr@gmail.com

The following is a firsthand account of true events that happened in 1986 in a small town near a lake. I have taken the liberty to edit the account slightly, for clarity, though full citations are listed below.

“I was the first person to come out of the area. I was with my daughter who came to spend holidays with me. It was getting late and we were sitting at the table reading, working on her schoolwork. Then she went to bed and fell asleep. I also went to bed without noticing any sign of anything. We didn’t have any sign of anything.

It was around midnight when I started feeling some heat. It felt as if rain was threatening to fall, so I got up from bed, and closed the windows. Then I went back to the house and went back to sleep. I was in a very deep sleep. I felt as if it were becoming hot. The start of the rainy season always comes with a hot first rain. Yes, I felt that feeling that very night.

Then I fell back to sleep. I heard some sound, something loud, like an airplane. It came and bounced with a boom. It was as if I was in a dream. I heard that noise as if I were dreaming…

All of a sudden my skin became very hot and I could smell something dry. I could not open my mouth because the terrible smell would enter my mouth. I could not speak. I just closed my mouth and remained silent. I soon became unconscious.

All of a sudden, I heard my daughter snoring in a terrible, very abnormal way. I forced myself to stand up from the bed, though I was already weak. I tried to see what was happening with my daughter and perhaps figure out what was smelling in the house. Just when I stood up, I fell. When walking over to my daughter’s bed, in the middle of the floor, I collapsed and fell again. I remained there on the floor since I couldn’t stand up. I was there until the morning. I don’t know whether I was sleeping, I don’t really know. I was there until a neighbor of mine came and knocked at my door. The door was locked, so he hit it loudly, with such force that he woke me. I heard it as if I was dreaming. I was surprised to see that my clothes were red. It looked as though they had some stains like honey. My arms had some wounds about the size of a quarter. I didn’t really know how I got these wounds, or where they came from. My face, too, had some wounds, these marks. They seemed to bleed slowly. I finally managed to stand, and eventually, to open the door. I was unable to speak. I wanted to speak, but my breath would not come out. I stood in silence for some time. My friend was talking, asking me a question, but my voice would not come out. I was breathing abnormally…

My daughter was already dead. I didn’t know that she was dead. I thought she was still sleeping. It was almost noon. I drank some milk and water, and fell back to sleep. I went to my daughter’s bed, thinking that she was still sleeping. I slept until the early evening. I slept with my daughter, not knowing that she was already dead. When I recovered enough, I stood up to clear my senses. I still felt as if I was dreaming. I never knew what was happening until I went outside. Everywhere was quiet, I managed to go over to my many of my neighbors’ houses.

They were all dead. I tried my neighbors’ doors. They were bolted from the inside. I shouted through the window, but I saw them all lying motionless on the floor. I went to my neighbors house, the one who came and knocked at my door. I went to him and I saw him resting the same way as I had. He was just lying on the bed. He told me that he could not stand up. I knew I had to go back to my house.

When I arrived home, I saw that my daughter was already dead. It was starting to get dark. I felt that I had a little strength so I knew I had to leave. The rest of my family was in a neighboring town, so I decided to go to them. I thought that this thing must have happened all over and most my family may already be dead. I thought that if I am dying, I will die on the way. I walked to my garage. When I just started my motorcycle, I heard the sound of the engine and it was quite normal.

I tied a shirt around my face, to use as a mask in case of any smell. I went to my neighbors house and carried him on my shoulders to my motorcycle. I rode thirty-six miles to the nearest town to find help. My hands felt frozen when I reached the hospital. My body was completely weak…

When I rode through my town, I didn’t see any sign of any living thing; the only other person was that friend that I carried.”

In August of 1981, Lake Nyos suddenly emitted a large cloud of CO2, which suffocated 1,700 people and 3,500 livestock in nearby towns and villages almost immediately. There were only six survivors in Nyos.

So what would you do if you woke up and everyone you knew was dead?

http://www.geo.arizona.edu/geo5xx/geos577/projects/kayzar/html/lake_nyos_disaster.html

http://www.geology.sdsu.edu/how_volcanoes_work/Nyos.html

http://www.semp.us/publications/securitas_reader.php?SecuritasID=24

January 13, 2012.

I was with some friends watching a blues band when one of them, in awe of the lullaby, gushed her admiration for the guitar sliding talents. “man, some people are just born with it.”

That model of thinking is the laziest, damn near most pathetic way out of self-accountability I’ve ever known. Striking up someone’s skill as talent they were born with, or things that just come naturally to others, is an insult. It is an attack on their hard work and determination. Nobody is naturally more inclined to play guitar or sing than someone is to cook gourmet meals or be a yoga or fitness guru. Its not to say some people have a natural inclination or interest in things that will come out in their eventual mastery of skills and talents. Im not talking about savants or prodigies.

 
For as long as I can remember, I liked art. I would draw, and people would praise me for it. So I drew more. And I got better and better. But you know what, I drew a lot. I mean, a ridiculous amount.

 
As a kid, music wasnt terribly appealing to me. I listened to whatever was around me and I didn’t care one way or another. But when I was 18 I picked up a guitar. And I learned some chords. And I played. A lot.

 
So now when people see me draw or play music, they often think I was born with it. I wasn’t. I played and practiced and played and practiced.

 
Or when the conversation whispers to travel, folks will tell me, “you’re lucky. I wish I could do that.”

 
No asshole. I made a plan. I saved and lived deeply within my means, and for two years I did just that. In fact, I did it with a low paying non-profit wage. No new cars, no mortgage, and very few new shiney toys. Sure I’m lucky. I am lucky to have been born in this day and age, with all the privilege that comes with it. And you know what? So are you.

 
This is beyond talking about excuses. Sure, you may even have a family and there’s just no way you can travel with them in tow. Well, don’t mention that to The Denning family, driving from Alaska to Argentina with five kids and one truck.

 
Or The Zapps, from Argentina, traveling over 150,000 miles as they build their family and do it driving a 1928 wagon.

Or you want to learn a language, or maybe how to sing. Well, it took Derek Sivers fifteen years to learn how to sing. Fifteen years. Do you have that sort of determination?

 
Whatever it is, it isn’t a gift. Nobody is born with it.

 
If your life is lacking in any way, that’s on you. Quit believing some folks are just born with it. There is no luck, you’ve gotta make it.

I’ve been traveling for the better part of eight years now. The idea of home seems complex and awkward. Is it where I’ve ditched my box of keepsakes and milkcrates of books? Well then, my mom’s crawlspace and my pop’s attic is home. Is it based on my current mailing address or where I sleep at night? Truly, I’m not so sure it even matters. One can live in the same town their whole life and have the mindset of a traveler, or by opening their doors they can meet folks from all over the world.

The mindset of the traveler is a life of inquisition.

The new year begins the next chapter in my life, informally The Year of the Vagabond, though I have no reason to believe it will only be a year. Either way, it started off right with a 4800 mile (7700 km) road trip across the states, and still another 3000 mile road trip in three weeks. Southern California has been my home base for almost exactly three years, so it’ll be good for me to have a change of scenery.

Come February I’ll be in south Florida (hopefully) pulling a short stint as a mate on a fishing boat. When the weather warms in Europe we’ll be heading that way, and continuing east, all the way east, through and around the Middle East. The plan then includes getting to Moscow for the Trans-Siberian to Trans-Mongolian train trip. Hello to Asia and Southeast Asia to India. 

So yes, the year of the vagabond.

I am not born for one corner, the whole world is my native land. -Seneca, c. 3 B.C.-A.D. 65

I do hope to meet up with some of you on my travels. Please drop me a line anytime.