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BLOG post FUN post. Realigning the Globe.

Published March 27, 2025

It's fun. It's fun stuff. FUN STUFF.

There are so many opportunities in this moment.

The American people have a president actively destroying their own power in the world. Giving away the farm while talking about expanding it and BLAH. He's not, he's destroying American power in the world.

It will be funny how the far left idiots' songs will now change, when they become the plaything of rival empires. Those Kyle Kulinski-type. The whining and morality is a luxury when you live inside the war machine. The way things are heading, I have visions of soft white pussybois running naked through cold meadows. Sino Russo war machines come tearing at their soft pink flesh.

Lovely visuals. Lovely. Anyway. Any way.

What should happen now?

Well, Brad's here to dictate.

The West is splitting. American leadership has shit on itself and is choking to death.

We can't speak of what's next for America, because it's being driven by someone who is killing it, purposefully.

At this point it's clear Donald Trump is just causing self-harm to his country. Narcissistic revenge for losing in 2020, Russian puppetry, knowingly or not, doesn't matter. He's just pissed that he's old and will be dead soon. A stupid decision of foolish democracy. Ruinous.

His VP and the current Speaker would be no better. Perhaps less INTENT to destroy, but they would only continue the destruction. It's one of the main reasons Trump chose Vance and supports Mike Johnson. The alternatives beyond Trump would only continue wrecking the country in their own ways, for their own mentally retarded and religious reasons.

When a new patriot, a caring American president is elected they will have to repair and rebuild in a very different world and with much less power.

I bless them in that task.

From here, this is where the players that are of interest to me should go. In this sad, shameful era of American Self-destruction.

...continue reading

BLOG post FUN post. Realigning the Globe.

Published March 27, 2025

It's fun. It's fun stuff. FUN STUFF.

There are so many opportunities in this moment.

The American people have a president actively destroying their own power in the world. Giving away the farm while talking about expanding it and BLAH. He's not, he's destroying American power in the world.

It will be funny how the far left idiots' songs will now change, when they become the plaything of rival empires. Those Kyle Kulinski-type. The whining and morality is a luxury when you live inside the war machine. The way things are heading, I have visions of soft white pussybois running naked through cold meadows. Sino Russo war machines come tearing at their soft pink flesh.

Lovely visuals. Lovely. Anyway. Any way.

What should happen now?

Well, Brad's here to dictate.

The West is splitting. American leadership has shit on itself and is choking to death.

We can't speak of what's next for America, because it's being driven by someone who is killing it, purposefully.

At this point it's clear Donald Trump is just causing self-harm to his country. Narcissistic revenge for losing in 2020, Russian puppetry, knowingly or not, doesn't matter. He's just pissed that he's old and will be dead soon. A stupid decision of foolish democracy. Ruinous.

His VP and the current Speaker would be no better. Perhaps less INTENT to destroy, but they would only continue the destruction. It's one of the main reasons Trump chose Vance and supports Mike Johnson. The alternatives beyond Trump would only continue wrecking the country in their own ways, for their own mentally retarded and religious reasons.

When a new patriot, a caring American president is elected they will have to repair and rebuild in a very different world and with much less power.

I bless them in that task.

From here, this is where the players that are of interest to me should go. In this sad, shameful era of American Self-destruction.

...continue reading

Three Years of War

Published February 24, 2025

At the end of February 2022, I was in a nice old hotel room in Riga watching the coverage of the first days of the Russo boom and "пиздец" !...

The month before, at the end of January, I was in Tallinn. The world was still in its quiet postwar slumber. The snow was beautiful, the city was too.

By the time I arrived in Riga —Russia had torn into Ukraine across three of its borders. The Ukrainian yellow and blue flew everywhere in the Latvian capital. It was the same the next month in Lithuania.

It's been an incredible fight back. An underdog story of survival.

Yet. And now, b-a-cause of a single incredibly lucky, but still loser shit of history, that great story is about to be betrayed.

An American surrender is coming.

Doesn't really feel American does it.

I don't moralise. Power is power. Reality is reality. It's a perfectly legitimate thing for Russia to want to protect its borders with buffer states and push back against foreign great powers on its doorstep.

BUT HEY bitch.

It's the job of Europe and America to fight back against that legitimate thing. Ensuring an aggressive Russia is stopped quickly and kept the fuck back is a constant fact of life. It's Our Legitimate Thing Vs Their Legitimate Thing. It's a game, you have a side. You choose, you fight.

The flat roll on the European Plain can and does go both ways.

Welcome to Earth.

...continue reading

Three Years of War

Published February 24, 2025

At the end of February 2022, I was in a nice old hotel room in Riga watching the coverage of the first days of the Russo boom and "пиздец" !...

The month before, at the end of January, I was in Tallinn. The world was still in its quiet postwar slumber. The snow was beautiful, the city was too.

By the time I arrived in Riga —Russia had torn into Ukraine across three of its borders. The Ukrainian yellow and blue flew everywhere in the Latvian capital. It was the same the next month in Lithuania.

It's been an incredible fight back. An underdog story of survival.

Yet. And now, b-a-cause of a single incredibly lucky, but still loser shit of history, that great story is about to be betrayed.

An American surrender is coming.

Doesn't really feel American does it.

I don't moralise. Power is power. Reality is reality. It's a perfectly legitimate thing for Russia to want to protect its borders with buffer states and push back against foreign great powers on its doorstep.

BUT HEY bitch.

It's the job of Europe and America to fight back against that legitimate thing. Ensuring an aggressive Russia is stopped quickly and kept the fuck back is a constant fact of life. It's Our Legitimate Thing Vs Their Legitimate Thing. It's a game, you have a side. You choose, you fight.

The flat roll on the European Plain can and does go both ways.

Welcome to Earth.

...continue reading

The Month in Cartagena

Published February 9, 2025

Here we are. It's the Cartagena Blog post.

I've written a few versions of this. Most (all) of them contain phrases to the effect of -

‘I fucking hated this place.’

HA. … !

oh baby

But did I? Do I?

Now back in England. The thing I knew would happen is happening. I don't want to be there. But there are some things that I'm looking back on romantically.

Mostly it's the tight blue jeans and shorts. The thin shirts and little sun dresses. Mostly it's them, mostly it's that.

And the sunsets, the sunsets out the window from my rooms in Hotel Stil.

I'm honest. So you can go ahead and hate me if your opinion of South America means so much to your identity that you can't process mine.

At times, A-Lot-Ta times. . .

I hate the language.

I hate the food.

I hate the music.

I hate the architecture.

I hate it all.

I hate all this Spanish shit, I hate South America.

eh..

I chose the city lauded as one of if not The most beautiful on the continent. I didn't find it beautiful, or maybe beautiful enough. It wasn't ugly. Just not special.

Ouch.

How did this all happen anyway? How did I end up in Cartagena, Colombia for well over a month?

A picnic bench in a backyard of a hostel on the Upper West Side. Go find the post. Go read the post.

I cancelled the original trip for the end of the year and the beginning of the next —the blitz through the continent in favour of some slow travel.

This was the right decision. And if I made another decision, that would have been right too.

I make the decision right by how I play after.

I think I played Cartagena as well as I could have.

I got a lot out of it. Out of this time. I learnt more about me.

...continue reading

The Month in Cartagena

Published February 9, 2025

Here we are. It's the Cartagena Blog post.

I've written a few versions of this. Most (all) of them contain phrases to the effect of -

‘I fucking hated this place.’

HA. … !

oh baby

But did I? Do I?

Now back in England. The thing I knew would happen is happening. I don't want to be there. But there are some things that I'm looking back on romantically.

Mostly it's the tight blue jeans and shorts. The thin shirts and little sun dresses. Mostly it's them, mostly it's that.

And the sunsets, the sunsets out the window from my rooms in Hotel Stil.

I'm honest. So you can go ahead and hate me if your opinion of South America means so much to your identity that you can't process mine.

At times, A-Lot-Ta times. . .

I hate the language.

I hate the food.

I hate the music.

I hate the architecture.

I hate it all.

I hate all this Spanish shit, I hate South America.

eh..

I chose the city lauded as one of if not The most beautiful on the continent. I didn't find it beautiful, or maybe beautiful enough. It wasn't ugly. Just not special.

Ouch.

How did this all happen anyway? How did I end up in Cartagena, Colombia for well over a month?

A picnic bench in a backyard of a hostel on the Upper West Side. Go find the post. Go read the post.

I cancelled the original trip for the end of the year and the beginning of the next —the blitz through the continent in favour of some slow travel.

This was the right decision. And if I made another decision, that would have been right too.

I make the decision right by how I play after.

I think I played Cartagena as well as I could have.

I got a lot out of it. Out of this time. I learnt more about me.

...continue reading

FUNK 58 Author's Note

Published January 31, 2025

I debated adding an author's note to FUNK 58.

In the end it wasn't right. This is my book but really you have to read it as his book you know.

Adding an author's note to that would have pulled the reader out of it, whether at the beginning or the end. It wasn't right.

But I do want to talk about it and write about it.

Write about writing it. The process. And where I'm going with it from here, now that it's out, published for the world to enjoy.

I began writing FUNK at the beginning of 2024, after returning from Asia Trip 7, I finished it a year later during my time in Cartagena, Colombia, and the days after back in England.

I wrote a lot in Cartagena. Mostly at my local coffee shops. Writing was a refuge, it kept me happy and entertained, it cheered me up in a place I wasn't connecting with.

My view on this novel is that it's a beautiful thing.

A great thing. A book I wanted to read. That's the book I wrote. I'm sure some will absolutely fucking hate it and that's fine. But I'm sure many (hopefully, definitely) more will love it.

Writing a novel is a different thing now. In 2025. More an exercise in your own determination and intelligence. A self-imposed test.

The books for me. But you can read it too.

...continue reading

FUNK 58 Author's Note

Published January 31, 2025

I debated adding an author's note to FUNK 58.

In the end it wasn't right. This is my book but really you have to read it as his book you know.

Adding an author's note to that would have pulled the reader out of it, whether at the beginning or the end. It wasn't right.

But I do want to talk about it and write about it.

Write about writing it. The process. And where I'm going with it from here, now that it's out, published for the world to enjoy.

I began writing FUNK at the beginning of 2024, after returning from Asia Trip 7, I finished it a year later during my time in Cartagena, Colombia, and the days after back in England.

I wrote a lot in Cartagena. Mostly at my local coffee shops. Writing was a refuge, it kept me happy and entertained, it cheered me up in a place I wasn't connecting with.

My view on this novel is that it's a beautiful thing.

A great thing. A book I wanted to read. That's the book I wrote. I'm sure some will absolutely fucking hate it and that's fine. But I'm sure many (hopefully, definitely) more will love it.

Writing a novel is a different thing now. In 2025. More an exercise in your own determination and intelligence. A self-imposed test.

The books for me. But you can read it too.

...continue reading

A Late November Early December Post

Published December 4, 2024

Sometimes I think of Batumi and wonder.

It disappointed me when I was there. And yet I felt moments of the magic I thought it could have.

I remember the walk from the train station, along the long ocean promenade to the city. The grey-blue sea and black stone beach, the city skyscrapers cutting the water in the distance.

There I am, applying sun lotion all over my face and neck and arms in the hot Georgian sun outside a small children's park. In the city sexy young women in tracksuits walked on red paint streets. So sweet, as if the colour was glued with warm sugar.

I remember the old wise dog looking pensive out to sea and the empty novelty towers with embedded ferris wheels still, abandoned.

Rain, Mosquitos, Diamond-shaped McDonald's

I thought I would love Batumi with all my heart. I didn't. And that made me feel sad. As I left the city, in the dark early morning hours, on the overpass by the port, I decided I would give it one more chance. Some day, out there in time, that time will happen. Probably already has.

Batumi was towards the beginning of the biggest trip I've taken outside The Three Year MEGA Journey. Asia Trip 7 - ten countries, eight new, from Hungary to the Philippines.

Hungary Turkey Georgia Armenia UAE Oman Malaysia Brunei Philippines Singapore

In two and a half months. It was wild.

In Sarawak I found the feeling of connection and love that I was expecting. In contrast to what I felt on the shores of the Black Sea. I think Batumi can do it. I feel Batumi has it within. Time will tell. I'll be honest. As always.

...continue reading

A Late November Early December Post

Published December 4, 2024

Sometimes I think of Batumi and wonder.

It disappointed me when I was there. And yet I felt moments of the magic I thought it could have.

I remember the walk from the train station, along the long ocean promenade to the city. The grey-blue sea and black stone beach, the city skyscrapers cutting the water in the distance.

There I am, applying sun lotion all over my face and neck and arms in the hot Georgian sun outside a small children's park. In the city sexy young women in tracksuits walked on red paint streets. So sweet, as if the colour was glued with warm sugar.

I remember the old wise dog looking pensive out to sea and the empty novelty towers with embedded ferris wheels still, abandoned.

Rain, Mosquitos, Diamond-shaped McDonald's

I thought I would love Batumi with all my heart. I didn't. And that made me feel sad. As I left the city, in the dark early morning hours, on the overpass by the port, I decided I would give it one more chance. Some day, out there in time, that time will happen. Probably already has.

Batumi was towards the beginning of the biggest trip I've taken outside The Three Year MEGA Journey. Asia Trip 7 - ten countries, eight new, from Hungary to the Philippines.

Hungary Turkey Georgia Armenia UAE Oman Malaysia Brunei Philippines Singapore

In two and a half months. It was wild.

In Sarawak I found the feeling of connection and love that I was expecting. In contrast to what I felt on the shores of the Black Sea. I think Batumi can do it. I feel Batumi has it within. Time will tell. I'll be honest. As always.

...continue reading

New York

Published November 29, 2024

I was in the line to check in, in England still and American extraversion was already here.

I didn't want to talk but the ease and naturalness of American extraversion quickly hit me.

Ah, American extraversion. This is what human interaction can be.

AMERICA. Even the introverts are extraverts.

I had a scratch on my hand.

I bought some trash calories and a can of sugar and coffee at Boots.

It was nearly bedtime anyway. Early afternoon. I hoped the plane was quiet and the people around me had some levels of decency and sense.

Angels exist.

They wanted to sit next to each other. I agreed. Middle seat swapped for window. A great and mighty big blue Atlantic all the way through.

The last time I was in America was before the pandemic in 2019 and it was summer.

I felt uncomfortable then. In my Vietnamese ex-girlfriend’s t-shirt (the one she used as a dress) and a feeling of ickiness within my skin.

I don't know why. There was a bubbling metallic angst inside me.

I saw Twice in New Jersey and watched Liverpool at Yankee Stadium. I had a really great night of booze and weed and friendship. But New York didn't feel AS magical as previous visits, the magic was there but not constant! It was more akin to the fractured magic of my first visit in 2006 than the electric insanity of 2013. Electric Insanity!!!

This time around I felt that feeling of being in America. Of being in New York City. Immediately. The steam rose across the setting sun and the skyscrapers of Manhattan were waiting for me on the horizon.

It was election day. Tuesday November 5th 2024. Donald John Trump versus Kamalalalalala Devi Harris. By the early morning hours of November 6th, America and the world would know just what future it was getting.

I checked into the hostel to the aged face of a woman that used to be hot. Sad. She was a bitch too. The personality of a once hot woman turned ug. Some of the worst. But I didn't care.

I stayed here in 2013 and had a terrible time. Then I moved to another hostel close to Central Park and had a fucking awesome time. I chose it now because the facilities were great and the location was perfect. And I didn't care for anything too social.

There was no buzz about the election on the streets of Manhattan.

A mix of quiet acknowledgement that Trump had the momentum and he'd probably win it. And the fact that New York City is a paradox, both America's largest and most important city and at the same time very separate from the USA. It's a distinct country itself - a city state within the American union.

If you don't know by now. Trump won. Lol. Beautiful.

I went to bed in the early morning hours. And hardly slept.

The next morning I headed to the South Ferry terminal for the Staten Island Ferry. New York was hot, not boiling, not muggy humid, but hot. In the mid-twenties in early November. The fuck!?

Climate change is a wonderful thing.

As I boarded the boat I spotted a building not too far in the distance.

From this angle it looked like a new set of twin towers had been built. They weren't, they haven't. But it looked like that.

We passed the teeny tiny, really way too small, shoulda been bigger, gotta replace with a bigger green bitch Statue of Liberty and hammered on to Staten.

Water was blue, sky was too. Boat was fun. Boats are fun.

Out of the terminal I went to the nearby mall and Shake Shack. Ate a chicken burger, fries and drank a coke. Outside I flirted with a couple of nice Asian ladies, college students, and then a hot blonde American with an ugly friend. Then I went back to Manhattan.

After the ferry I walked to the Brooklyn Bridge.

There were so many hot bitches on the bridge, Hot Bridge Bitches, and I was very happy. A Hispanic one took her top off and swung her arse from side to side and gave me looks. That was nice. Her boyfriend also gave me looks.

It was my second time on the bridge and the first in daylight. Everything had a pink-grey filter to it. Sand-gold brick and perfect lines of steel wire.

Brooklyn was great, but I was more excited about the bridge up river.

The Brooklyn Bridge gets all the fame and love, and apparently all the hot bitches too, but The Manhattan is the king, The Manhattan is the queen.

...continue reading

New York

Published November 29, 2024

I was in the line to check in, in England still and American extraversion was already here.

I didn't want to talk but the ease and naturalness of American extraversion quickly hit me.

Ah, American extraversion. This is what human interaction can be.

AMERICA. Even the introverts are extraverts.

I had a scratch on my hand.

I bought some trash calories and a can of sugar and coffee at Boots.

It was nearly bedtime anyway. Early afternoon. I hoped the plane was quiet and the people around me had some levels of decency and sense.

Angels exist.

They wanted to sit next to each other. I agreed. Middle seat swapped for window. A great and mighty big blue Atlantic all the way through.

The last time I was in America was before the pandemic in 2019 and it was summer.

I felt uncomfortable then. In my Vietnamese ex-girlfriend’s t-shirt (the one she used as a dress) and a feeling of ickiness within my skin.

I don't know why. There was a bubbling metallic angst inside me.

I saw Twice in New Jersey and watched Liverpool at Yankee Stadium. I had a really great night of booze and weed and friendship. But New York didn't feel AS magical as previous visits, the magic was there but not constant! It was more akin to the fractured magic of my first visit in 2006 than the electric insanity of 2013. Electric Insanity!!!

This time around I felt that feeling of being in America. Of being in New York City. Immediately. The steam rose across the setting sun and the skyscrapers of Manhattan were waiting for me on the horizon.

It was election day. Tuesday November 5th 2024. Donald John Trump versus Kamalalalalala Devi Harris. By the early morning hours of November 6th, America and the world would know just what future it was getting.

I checked into the hostel to the aged face of a woman that used to be hot. Sad. She was a bitch too. The personality of a once hot woman turned ug. Some of the worst. But I didn't care.

I stayed here in 2013 and had a terrible time. Then I moved to another hostel close to Central Park and had a fucking awesome time. I chose it now because the facilities were great and the location was perfect. And I didn't care for anything too social.

There was no buzz about the election on the streets of Manhattan.

A mix of quiet acknowledgement that Trump had the momentum and he'd probably win it. And the fact that New York City is a paradox, both America's largest and most important city and at the same time very separate from the USA. It's a distinct country itself - a city state within the American union.

If you don't know by now. Trump won. Lol. Beautiful.

I went to bed in the early morning hours. And hardly slept.

The next morning I headed to the South Ferry terminal for the Staten Island Ferry. New York was hot, not boiling, not muggy humid, but hot. In the mid-twenties in early November. The fuck!?

Climate change is a wonderful thing.

As I boarded the boat I spotted a building not too far in the distance.

From this angle it looked like a new set of twin towers had been built. They weren't, they haven't. But it looked like that.

We passed the teeny tiny, really way too small, shoulda been bigger, gotta replace with a bigger green bitch Statue of Liberty and hammered on to Staten.

Water was blue, sky was too. Boat was fun. Boats are fun.

Out of the terminal I went to the nearby mall and Shake Shack. Ate a chicken burger, fries and drank a coke. Outside I flirted with a couple of nice Asian ladies, college students, and then a hot blonde American with an ugly friend. Then I went back to Manhattan.

After the ferry I walked to the Brooklyn Bridge.

There were so many hot bitches on the bridge, Hot Bridge Bitches, and I was very happy. A Hispanic one took her top off and swung her arse from side to side and gave me looks. That was nice. Her boyfriend also gave me looks.

It was my second time on the bridge and the first in daylight. Everything had a pink-grey filter to it. Sand-gold brick and perfect lines of steel wire.

Brooklyn was great, but I was more excited about the bridge up river.

The Brooklyn Bridge gets all the fame and love, and apparently all the hot bitches too, but The Manhattan is the king, The Manhattan is the queen.

...continue reading

Me and Me Alone

Published November 19, 2024

So where was I?

I was on a picnic bench. In Manhattan. In the backyard of a hostel. It was November 7th, the early morning hours.

Brown yellow orange red leaves.

Fairy lights strung through the trees.

Foreign accents and pizza in the air.

It was warm. Hot Fall.

I was doing this and then doing that. Rearranging. It just wasn't there. Wasn't happening. My heart.

Sport is important but the art is equally.

Everything on the screen, in my mind, none of it felt like art. Just sport. And just sport is fucking boring. I was bored of it.

When I'm at my desk or in my bathtub, when I'm alone, I think and dream and plan. I love that time. When I'm chasing countries and conquering them. I love that too.

I was feeling nothing but an urge to get the countries done, get the continent done, tick the boxes and move on - more sport, less art.

This is not the end of this Special Mission. It's the beginning of finishing it.

But I move in mysterious ways.

So I booked a flight back to England and scrapped ‘The Big SOUTH AMERICA Trip’ !

I don't want to have these self-imposed blockades and mountains of shit existing alongside the real obstacles to overcome, the real mountains.

There are many things that contributed to this moment. One of the defining moments.

...continue reading

Me and Me Alone

Published November 19, 2024

So where was I?

I was on a picnic bench. In Manhattan. In the backyard of a hostel. It was November 7th, the early morning hours.

Brown yellow orange red leaves.

Fairy lights strung through the trees.

Foreign accents and pizza in the air.

It was warm. Hot Fall.

I was doing this and then doing that. Rearranging. It just wasn't there. Wasn't happening. My heart.

Sport is important but the art is equally.

Everything on the screen, in my mind, none of it felt like art. Just sport. And just sport is fucking boring. I was bored of it.

When I'm at my desk or in my bathtub, when I'm alone, I think and dream and plan. I love that time. When I'm chasing countries and conquering them. I love that too.

I was feeling nothing but an urge to get the countries done, get the continent done, tick the boxes and move on - more sport, less art.

This is not the end of this Special Mission. It's the beginning of finishing it.

But I move in mysterious ways.

So I booked a flight back to England and scrapped ‘The Big SOUTH AMERICA Trip’ !

I don't want to have these self-imposed blockades and mountains of shit existing alongside the real obstacles to overcome, the real mountains.

There are many things that contributed to this moment. One of the defining moments.

...continue reading

That Brad Nicholls Techno

Published November 4, 2024

I'm flying to New York tomorrow. It's election day tomorrow.

I just drank my chocolate protein shake, I had two cans of coffee earlier, I have two cans of coffee every day now.

Let's meditate and find some relief.

Don't worry.

I never do.

We Will Get There.

I need to sleep, I'll sleep and then I'll wake up for another great adventure.

Here's something I wrote a while ago...

The feeling had been growing inside me for some time. This future life.

Techno. Less human interaction. More robots. More 1s and 0s. Ones and Zeros.

It was on the way to Batu Caves that it hit me.

An ocean of water had formed in the gap between the glass of the train door - the glass fogged by condensation, the palm trees and skyscrapers flying past outside.

A few weeks later, ChatGPT dropped on the world and changed the world.

I was on a train that day too.

I was on my way to Hat Yai in southern Thailand from Kuala Lumpur via Padang Besar. That night Australia knocked Denmark out of the World Cup and I had a night of weird and wonderful sex with a ladyboy in my hotel room while the monsoon unleashed itself onto the streets.

7-Eleven. Microwaved burgers. Plastic. Stars. Splash Power.

...continue reading

That Brad Nicholls Techno

Published November 4, 2024

I'm flying to New York tomorrow. It's election day tomorrow.

I just drank my chocolate protein shake, I had two cans of coffee earlier, I have two cans of coffee every day now.

Let's meditate and find some relief.

Don't worry.

I never do.

We Will Get There.

I need to sleep, I'll sleep and then I'll wake up for another great adventure.

Here's something I wrote a while ago...

The feeling had been growing inside me for some time. This future life.

Techno. Less human interaction. More robots. More 1s and 0s. Ones and Zeros.

It was on the way to Batu Caves that it hit me.

An ocean of water had formed in the gap between the glass of the train door - the glass fogged by condensation, the palm trees and skyscrapers flying past outside.

A few weeks later, ChatGPT dropped on the world and changed the world.

I was on a train that day too.

I was on my way to Hat Yai in southern Thailand from Kuala Lumpur via Padang Besar. That night Australia knocked Denmark out of the World Cup and I had a night of weird and wonderful sex with a ladyboy in my hotel room while the monsoon unleashed itself onto the streets.

7-Eleven. Microwaved burgers. Plastic. Stars. Splash Power.

...continue reading

My Last EU Country

Published October 18, 2024

Malta, my last EU country.

A few weeks before in Merzouga the blonde German girl asked me where I was heading next.

“Where will you go next?”

“I'm going to Malta, my last EU country and then South America.”

She didn't understand initially.

“Lassst?”

“Yeah, after Malta I will have visited every EU country.”

She rested her head on her hand and stroked her chin. And looked at me with alive eyes.

I liked that look.

And I liked that feeling.

To be honest, as I always am. I didn't want to go through all the bullshit, I didn't want to do all that shit again right now. I wanted to be at my desk. With my animals. In my bathtub.

Oh my love, Oh my bathtub

Fuck Sake!

Planes and Trains and Buses and People

arghhhh

But of course I did. You just gotta do it. Then you can say cool shit and have it be REAL!

I have now visited every EU country.

Cool Shit. REAL!

...continue reading

My Last EU Country

Published October 18, 2024

Malta, my last EU country.

A few weeks before in Merzouga the blonde German girl asked me where I was heading next.

“Where will you go next?”

“I'm going to Malta, my last EU country and then South America.”

She didn't understand initially.

“Lassst?”

“Yeah, after Malta I will have visited every EU country.”

She rested her head on her hand and stroked her chin. And looked at me with alive eyes.

I liked that look.

And I liked that feeling.

To be honest, as I always am. I didn't want to go through all the bullshit, I didn't want to do all that shit again right now. I wanted to be at my desk. With my animals. In my bathtub.

Oh my love, Oh my bathtub

Fuck Sake!

Planes and Trains and Buses and People

arghhhh

But of course I did. You just gotta do it. Then you can say cool shit and have it be REAL!

I have now visited every EU country.

Cool Shit. REAL!

...continue reading

Morocco

Published October 1, 2024

This was the furthest I had ever got against The Morocco Curse. I was off the plane and standing in front of a happy and nice looking Moroccan lady. A few questions and a stamp, that's all I needed.

I threw my phone at her instead.

HA!

I placed it through the small gap in the glass to show her the name of my hotel.

The phone went flying, bounced from counter to keyboard to counter and then straight at her.

Her shocked face stayed shocked for a real long five seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

EYES WIDE MOUTH OPEN

00

O

CLICK. CLAP. SNAP.

ACTION!

She passed my weapon back through the hole, confirmed my name and then asked what my job was, always a difficult question to answer.

"Writer, blogger." I said.

True, and …

Founder and God of The Church of BRAD

The BRAD NICHOLLS of BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast

A dude currently visiting every country in the world (is that a job?)

BradEarth

The Creator and The Ultimate of The Sui Generis

I could go on and on couldn't I.

Out in the arrivals hall everything was quiet and relaxed.

I had read all the bad stuff about Morocco and Marrakech. Now here I was and it was all starting to smell like bullshit.

Stepping out of Marrakech airport, into a calm warm early night. It was weird. The feeling only continued on the bus, and walking through Jemaa el-Fnaa square to my riad.

The bus driver had made a cutesy foreign exchange scam attempt with me, it was so cute. An old Moroccan lady thanked me so sincerely when I let her sit next to me. Young Moroccan women were smiling my way, warm warm smiles.

The fuck!

What the fuck were all these people talking about.

I had been promised horror, I was getting sweetness and peace.

At the riad, I stripped to my underwear in the hot room.

No air-con, thirty whatever degrees.

I ate my sweets and drank my water.

It was my birthday. I was now thirty three.

I went through my planned trip and didn't feel very excited.

Marrakech-Casablanca-Rabat

Hmm…

I already knew what I was gonna do.

THE DUNES

Merzouga. Erg Chebbi. The Sahara. I was going to the fucking desert.

...continue reading

Morocco

Published October 1, 2024

This was the furthest I had ever got against The Morocco Curse. I was off the plane and standing in front of a happy and nice looking Moroccan lady. A few questions and a stamp, that's all I needed.

I threw my phone at her instead.

HA!

I placed it through the small gap in the glass to show her the name of my hotel.

The phone went flying, bounced from counter to keyboard to counter and then straight at her.

Her shocked face stayed shocked for a real long five seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

EYES WIDE MOUTH OPEN

00

O

CLICK. CLAP. SNAP.

ACTION!

She passed my weapon back through the hole, confirmed my name and then asked what my job was, always a difficult question to answer.

"Writer, blogger." I said.

True, and …

Founder and God of The Church of BRAD

The BRAD NICHOLLS of BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast

A dude currently visiting every country in the world (is that a job?)

BradEarth

The Creator and The Ultimate of The Sui Generis

I could go on and on couldn't I.

Out in the arrivals hall everything was quiet and relaxed.

I had read all the bad stuff about Morocco and Marrakech. Now here I was and it was all starting to smell like bullshit.

Stepping out of Marrakech airport, into a calm warm early night. It was weird. The feeling only continued on the bus, and walking through Jemaa el-Fnaa square to my riad.

The bus driver had made a cutesy foreign exchange scam attempt with me, it was so cute. An old Moroccan lady thanked me so sincerely when I let her sit next to me. Young Moroccan women were smiling my way, warm warm smiles.

The fuck!

What the fuck were all these people talking about.

I had been promised horror, I was getting sweetness and peace.

At the riad, I stripped to my underwear in the hot room.

No air-con, thirty whatever degrees.

I ate my sweets and drank my water.

It was my birthday. I was now thirty three.

I went through my planned trip and didn't feel very excited.

Marrakech-Casablanca-Rabat

Hmm…

I already knew what I was gonna do.

THE DUNES

Merzouga. Erg Chebbi. The Sahara. I was going to the fucking desert.

...continue reading

Some Thoughts on Some Things

Published August 20, 2024

This will be self-indulgent. But what else is there. And this is my kingdom after all.

START

Where do I feel at home?

Europe ?

Europe is a warm hug on a cold day. Sunshine through the leaves. The singular problem, it's not even a problem but maybe it is, -_ it's too close to where I was born. Therefore it lacks in that one exotic. The need to be far far far away from what I first knew here on Earth. Earth a rock in a vacum, dust of the excelerating explosion. Or push.

America ?

I am America. AMERICA!!!! It's one of the things I am.

Canada ?

A one-time home. British Columbia. West. It started uncomfortable and became special to me.

East Asia ?

I was 21, turned 22 and then 23 all on the same stretch in East Asia, the first Asian leg of my Three Year MEGA Journey. South Korea, Japan, Taiwan. Loves till the end, no doubt.

Southeast Asia ?

Southeast Asia, each spot is unique and each holds unique memories and importance. I was a travel snob about much of it for a long time. But fuck me. SEA is wild, I've explored every country and so much of it.

Australia ?

Australia was interesting, weird and familiar, but I didn't feel home there. I did feel like it could be some thing in the future though. Some thing, but maybe not home, or maybe.

Africa ?

Africa, haven't been yet, don't know yet.

South America ?

South America, haven't been yet, don't know yet.

I already know the answer - it's all my home. I claim it all.

I am part of these places and these places are a part of me.

The bald spot, sometimes expanding, sometimes shrinking on my head.

There has to be a faster way to get effective drugs to market.

I didn't really enjoy the Tokyo Olympics, I do enjoy them usually, maybe it's because they were a starved weird weird covid games. I will watch Paris and enjoy. Paris done. I did watch Paris and I did enjoy.

...continue reading

Some Thoughts on Some Things

Published August 20, 2024

This will be self-indulgent. But what else is there. And this is my kingdom after all.

START

Where do I feel at home?

Europe ?

Europe is a warm hug on a cold day. Sunshine through the leaves. The singular problem, it's not even a problem but maybe it is, -_ it's too close to where I was born. Therefore it lacks in that one exotic. The need to be far far far away from what I first knew here on Earth. Earth a rock in a vacum, dust of the excelerating explosion. Or push.

America ?

I am America. AMERICA!!!! It's one of the things I am.

Canada ?

A one-time home. British Columbia. West. It started uncomfortable and became special to me.

East Asia ?

I was 21, turned 22 and then 23 all on the same stretch in East Asia, the first Asian leg of my Three Year MEGA Journey. South Korea, Japan, Taiwan. Loves till the end, no doubt.

Southeast Asia ?

Southeast Asia, each spot is unique and each holds unique memories and importance. I was a travel snob about much of it for a long time. But fuck me. SEA is wild, I've explored every country and so much of it.

Australia ?

Australia was interesting, weird and familiar, but I didn't feel home there. I did feel like it could be some thing in the future though. Some thing, but maybe not home, or maybe.

Africa ?

Africa, haven't been yet, don't know yet.

South America ?

South America, haven't been yet, don't know yet.

I already know the answer - it's all my home. I claim it all.

I am part of these places and these places are a part of me.

The bald spot, sometimes expanding, sometimes shrinking on my head.

There has to be a faster way to get effective drugs to market.

I didn't really enjoy the Tokyo Olympics, I do enjoy them usually, maybe it's because they were a starved weird weird covid games. I will watch Paris and enjoy. Paris done. I did watch Paris and I did enjoy.

...continue reading

Broken America and Joe Biden Drops

Published July 23, 2024

It all started at the debate.

I was so excited. I could feel something coming.

I got a big bag of toffee popcorn and a big bottle of Pepsi MAX No Caffeine.

I watched and documented my thoughts in real time.

It was a wonderful ninety nine minutes.

Donald calm and dull, his ear bullet-free.

Joe gape-mouthed, moist and smelly, lost in a fridge.

27 June was a turning point. It will become more important with time.

...

Biden is out of the race, but he's still sitting behind the Resolute Desk.

He might be there right now; eating ice cream, rubbing his pasty fake Irish belly, fingernails tapping on the nuclear codes. GET THIS PRICK OUT OF OFFICE!

The deal between Joe and KamKam, implicit or explicit is 'endorsement and delegates' for you, no 25th Amendment for me. Kay!

He is 'cooked' NOW, not five months from now, but NOW!

The sad truth is this one will likely be a responsible step too far for the Democratic establishment and the spotlight will shine far away from America's incapable President now. He'll be safe until January 20th 2025, the rest of America, not so much.

The saliva falling from the mouths of everyone who pushed him out can be used to pleasure my penis. Thanks. Treating this man like a saint that just invented bacon is to cover for the fact that THEY are the idiots that supported his 2024 campaign in the first place, while shutting down a real primary process. Not all of them, but most.

...continue reading

Broken America and Joe Biden Drops

Published July 23, 2024

It all started at the debate.

I was so excited. I could feel something coming.

I got a big bag of toffee popcorn and a big bottle of Pepsi MAX No Caffeine.

I watched and documented my thoughts in real time.

It was a wonderful ninety nine minutes.

Donald calm and dull, his ear bullet-free.

Joe gape-mouthed, moist and smelly, lost in a fridge.

27 June was a turning point. It will become more important with time.

...

Biden is out of the race, but he's still sitting behind the Resolute Desk.

He might be there right now; eating ice cream, rubbing his pasty fake Irish belly, fingernails tapping on the nuclear codes. GET THIS PRICK OUT OF OFFICE!

The deal between Joe and KamKam, implicit or explicit is 'endorsement and delegates' for you, no 25th Amendment for me. Kay!

He is 'cooked' NOW, not five months from now, but NOW!

The sad truth is this one will likely be a responsible step too far for the Democratic establishment and the spotlight will shine far away from America's incapable President now. He'll be safe until January 20th 2025, the rest of America, not so much.

The saliva falling from the mouths of everyone who pushed him out can be used to pleasure my penis. Thanks. Treating this man like a saint that just invented bacon is to cover for the fact that THEY are the idiots that supported his 2024 campaign in the first place, while shutting down a real primary process. Not all of them, but most.

...continue reading

Broken America and the Trump Assassination Attempt

Published July 18, 2024

The most important question...

HOW did he get on that rooftop, with that gun and get off the shots?

I've seen the work of the Secret Service with my own eyes. In 2011 during Barack Obama's state visit to the UK and at his 2013 inauguration. Snipers are plenty, spotters are everywhere.

Small details are not overlooked, giant bottle plants aren't either.

The theory, one of the theories will be and should be this - they knew what he was planning, and he was given the space and time needed to do the job.

Some will wrongly claim Occam's razor is a lone gunman and massive incompetence. They are wrong. It's the most acceptable thing to say, to veer away from conspiracy theories, the line that polite society will pat you on the head for, but that's all.

How does a 20 year old get on that roof and take the shots, if not allowed, if not given the space and time. And the information.

There is so much, too much, for simple incompetence.

The ladder! The Fuck!

The access to the roof! The Fuck!

The absence of officers on the roof! The Fuck!

The crowd pointing out the shooter beforehand! The Fuck!

The hesitation of the snipers, the long wait to take the shot! The Fuck!

The Fucking Fuckidity Fucko Fuck Fuck FUCK!

Another weird wrinkle is the identity of the shooter: both Republican and Democrat, conservative and progressive, no real social media history - a ghost.

A portrait of wisps and mud.

...continue reading

Broken America and the Trump Assassination Attempt

Published July 18, 2024

The most important question...

HOW did he get on that rooftop, with that gun and get off the shots?

I've seen the work of the Secret Service with my own eyes. In 2011 during Barack Obama's state visit to the UK and at his 2013 inauguration. Snipers are plenty, spotters are everywhere.

Small details are not overlooked, giant bottle plants aren't either.

The theory, one of the theories will be and should be this - they knew what he was planning, and he was given the space and time needed to do the job.

Some will wrongly claim Occam's razor is a lone gunman and massive incompetence. They are wrong. It's the most acceptable thing to say, to veer away from conspiracy theories, the line that polite society will pat you on the head for, but that's all.

How does a 20 year old get on that roof and take the shots, if not allowed, if not given the space and time. And the information.

There is so much, too much, for simple incompetence.

The ladder! The Fuck!

The access to the roof! The Fuck!

The absence of officers on the roof! The Fuck!

The crowd pointing out the shooter beforehand! The Fuck!

The hesitation of the snipers, the long wait to take the shot! The Fuck!

The Fucking Fuckidity Fucko Fuck Fuck FUCK!

Another weird wrinkle is the identity of the shooter: both Republican and Democrat, conservative and progressive, no real social media history - a ghost.

A portrait of wisps and mud.

...continue reading

Country 60 - Portugal

Published July 10, 2024

It's a different kind of hot here. The Mediterranean warmth. Not the happy horror heat of the tropics, or the suffocating thrilling annoyance of a muggy New York or stuffy London. It's pleasant. A pleasant hotness.

I was just off the plane. A nice flight. I had a very sexy, very polite, very E, chavvy kinda gal sitting next to me. And a group of big fat black people surrounding me. They were genuinely fun.

Football played on screens through open doors and windows.

I walked the dark streets from the bus station in the centre of town towards my accommodation for the night.

As I did, the penalties were being lined up and put away and saved. And a lot were saved.

Portugal saved them all and scored three to win.

For the last couple I was in the fan zone of hundreds of people by the harbour, hundreds of amped-up Portuguese. Jumping, dancing, screaming. Football is the same everywhere. It's the only sport that really matters to the world.

I checked into my hotel for the night, ate the snacks I bought at the airport and fell asleep.

The next morning I saw some of Faro, a quick walk, probably an hour. I got the sense of the place. Nice sense. No problem, would return.

Faro station had no electronic boards, no information or updates on trains and timings and platforms. I hate lack of details. When details of the world are missing, details that should be there. You're a fucking train station, act like it!

The train was the train. Through the country up to the capital. It looked like Portugal. It was Portugal.

...continue reading

Country 60 - Portugal

Published July 10, 2024

It's a different kind of hot here. The Mediterranean warmth. Not the happy horror heat of the tropics, or the suffocating thrilling annoyance of a muggy New York or stuffy London. It's pleasant. A pleasant hotness.

I was just off the plane. A nice flight. I had a very sexy, very polite, very E, chavvy kinda gal sitting next to me. And a group of big fat black people surrounding me. They were genuinely fun.

Football played on screens through open doors and windows.

I walked the dark streets from the bus station in the centre of town towards my accommodation for the night.

As I did, the penalties were being lined up and put away and saved. And a lot were saved.

Portugal saved them all and scored three to win.

For the last couple I was in the fan zone of hundreds of people by the harbour, hundreds of amped-up Portuguese. Jumping, dancing, screaming. Football is the same everywhere. It's the only sport that really matters to the world.

I checked into my hotel for the night, ate the snacks I bought at the airport and fell asleep.

The next morning I saw some of Faro, a quick walk, probably an hour. I got the sense of the place. Nice sense. No problem, would return.

Faro station had no electronic boards, no information or updates on trains and timings and platforms. I hate lack of details. When details of the world are missing, details that should be there. You're a fucking train station, act like it!

The train was the train. Through the country up to the capital. It looked like Portugal. It was Portugal.

...continue reading

Denmark lovely

Published May 7, 2024

I've created a new term 'Denmark lovely'

What does that mean?

When the annoyances inside don't ruin the whole.

Oh great, thanks.

That is Denmark lovely.

Denmark was Denmark lovely.

BOOMS and BANGS

Not long after I sat down in Copenhagen Airport and began eating my roll of Mentos an announcement came over the speakers.

"Today the government of Denmark will be testing the emergency siren system."

...and the emergency alert system too, everyone in Denmark including visitors would get a text!!

FUN STUFF.

Here we go.

The ludicrously priced Stansted Mentos were digesting now, and here I was ready for ACTION!

The sirens sounded across the land and the 'PRESIDENTIAL ALERT' hit my phone.

The message jumped onto the screen, vibrating excited and proud.

I appreciated the dramatic welcome. Test? Perhaps... warning to nation that Brad Nicholls was here, much more likely.

...continue reading

Denmark lovely

Published May 7, 2024

I've created a new term 'Denmark lovely'

What does that mean?

When the annoyances inside don't ruin the whole.

Oh great, thanks.

That is Denmark lovely.

Denmark was Denmark lovely.

BOOMS and BANGS

Not long after I sat down in Copenhagen Airport and began eating my roll of Mentos an announcement came over the speakers.

"Today the government of Denmark will be testing the emergency siren system."

...and the emergency alert system too, everyone in Denmark including visitors would get a text!!

FUN STUFF.

Here we go.

The ludicrously priced Stansted Mentos were digesting now, and here I was ready for ACTION!

The sirens sounded across the land and the 'PRESIDENTIAL ALERT' hit my phone.

The message jumped onto the screen, vibrating excited and proud.

I appreciated the dramatic welcome. Test? Perhaps... warning to nation that Brad Nicholls was here, much more likely.

...continue reading

I am 'They'! ,,,mostly bathtub thoughts.

Published April 20, 2024

Who the fuck are ‘They’?

I am ‘They’!

I decide the life I live. The world I build.

I'm in the bathtub.

Happiness in a bathtub.

Happiness is a bathtub.

Heaven’s a half-pipe.

Suck My Dickz.

Dust and Synth and all the light we ever lit.

Lost Universe. The suns are brains trying to figure it all out.

What the fuck the universe is.

The fuck is this.

And.

What the fuck is going on.

The fuck is going on.

?

Did you know one of my favourite ever albumsiz is Guns N’ Roses’ Use Your Illusion I and Use Your Illusion II, both were released on the day I was born - September 17th 1991.

A literal birthday present, Oh My GAWSH!!!

Tanks.

There's a sweet Chinese ASMR streamer. She doesn't have many viewers. I don't watch her long but I jump in there with her for a minute or two. I hope she's happy, I wish her the best.

She might have autistic-downs and she's very pretty.

I am a kind and loving man and have never committed a single crime. Ok. Okay lah!?

I went on the rollercoaster of the future long before AI was a concern.

Chill.

...continue reading

I am 'They'! ,,,mostly bathtub thoughts.

Published April 20, 2024

Who the fuck are ‘They’?

I am ‘They’!

I decide the life I live. The world I build.

I'm in the bathtub.

Happiness in a bathtub.

Happiness is a bathtub.

Heaven’s a half-pipe.

Suck My Dickz.

Dust and Synth and all the light we ever lit.

Lost Universe. The suns are brains trying to figure it all out.

What the fuck the universe is.

The fuck is this.

And.

What the fuck is going on.

The fuck is going on.

?

Did you know one of my favourite ever albumsiz is Guns N’ Roses’ Use Your Illusion I and Use Your Illusion II, both were released on the day I was born - September 17th 1991.

A literal birthday present, Oh My GAWSH!!!

Tanks.

There's a sweet Chinese ASMR streamer. She doesn't have many viewers. I don't watch her long but I jump in there with her for a minute or two. I hope she's happy, I wish her the best.

She might have autistic-downs and she's very pretty.

I am a kind and loving man and have never committed a single crime. Ok. Okay lah!?

I went on the rollercoaster of the future long before AI was a concern.

Chill.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part IV - Makati Madness, Tacloban Fairytales, Sentosa Spaceship

Published March 27, 2024

Country 58 - Philippines: Dirt, Sex, Fairytales

I sat down in my seat to K-pop classics blasting from the plane's speakers.

Twice, IU.

Nice touch.

A woman and her young son sat next to me. Despite the father across the aisle, she was flirty and giving me eyes, lots of eyes, fuck me here, it's fine, it's fine eyes.

I rather enjoyed it.

My worry of falling out of the sky and into oblivion left me long ago, but one place I still feel angsty is flying in this area of the world. There's something about the triangle trapezoid from Taiwan to Singapore to Darwin to Taiwan. Tropical monsters fly the skies here and they get hungry.

It was a mostly peaceful flight, until I closed my eyes on descent and opened them as we were coming into land.

'We're going to crash.' I calmly said to myself.

The plane was coming in too fast and at a deadly angle.

Just a second after I finished the thought, we took back off into the sky.

My first missed approach and my first go-around.

12 years of hardcore world travel and so many flights, and here I was, heading back into the sky, undercarriage retracting, into the darkness of the clouds. Nearly dead, not dead, land the fucking thing,,,

CRAZY SHIT, FUN STUFF, BRADEARTH FOREVER

The drive into the city was fucking horrible.

The traffic moved slower than a snail full o' pie.

. . .a snail full o’pie. Yahuh!

I didn't connect with the city I saw out the window.

I spent many days in Makati. And my time in Makati will be written as a poem.

Here is the poem... --- >>>

love hotel, fuck hotel

fancy hotel, dildos a-chargin', dildo's stuck on the TV

dicks and tits and ARSE

makati avenue

av

en

ue

the dirty little children beggin’

the dirty little adults doing the same

dirty, dirty

filthy

foock makadi

A few days in I developed a cough. I blamed it on the pollution and limited my daily excursions to once a day for food.

At Christmas a large chunk of the population headed home, back off to the suburbs, back off to the provinces and I cranked up the AC. The cold artificial wind made me feel better, so did the absence of filipinos n' filipinas and all their motor smoke.

On Christmas Eve morning some kind of human elf monster whore woke me up screaming hell at 5am. An unpaid hooker or surprise ladyboy rejected by some sex tourist prolly. I flipped the pillow to the col’ side and fell back asleep.

The screaming in the darkness down the hall at some point became calming. I dreamed and I dreamt of boats in space in regions with no pain.

I fucking hated the Philippines. I just wanted to be in bed, away from the fumes and the very sad hordes of dirty street people, especially the little ones, the little dirty street people, running up beside me beg-beg-begging for dat coin-coin-coin, coming way too close to my bags of Jolliebee and 7-Eleven snacks.

Tut, Tut, Tut.

It's a sad reality, the Philippines is a helicopter country. One to jump from spot to spot and avoid what's on the floor. I was already bored now, and tired, I wanted more than anything the end of December and the time until mid-January to pass and for me to be on that flight to Singapore, to smell that 'spicy perfume', eat kaya, see some old spots and some new ones before flying off to beautiful cold England.

I reserved one day to see the little of Manila of any interest.

In the morning I walked across the bridge and to the river ferry station. Apparently this plastic bathtub, thrown together, children's art supplies for windows ferry needed a passport to ride. I walked back to the hotel and got my passport for a ferry boat.

The river was a dirt brown. The brown of the Thames looks sugary, a delightful chocolate milk, this brown was a murky diarrhoea with deep trash lining the bowl.

As we crossed into the Malacañang Palace, the boat's engines throttled back and we floated quietly through the Philippine presidential bubble. I took out my phone to record, this precipitated a meltdown of the crew on board.

With the one exception of Malacañang, the poverty along the river was horrid. Further cementing the view that there is something deeply wrong with the Philippines.

The day finally came to leave Manilla for Tacloban. A city that most visitors to the Philippines don't even consider. I wanted to see it. The entire city was destroyed ten years ago, flattened by the strongest typhoon in history. That was more interesting to me than a polluted beach.

The plane to Tac met wall after wall of cloud.

I love the feeling of hitting the clouds. The anticipation.

The punch to the gut and the madness inside the plastic that follows.

At the airport a girl was waiting for me.

We squeezed into a jeepney full of Filipinos and Filipinas and rode to my hotel.

Tacloban City had an odd mix of highlights.

In terms of tourism, the two things it had going for it was its own destruction and General Douglas MacArthur.

After new years, me and the airport girl headed on jeepneys and tricycles to Palo to see the famous statue of MacArthur and Friends and the flood wall built to keep back the ocean after the typhoon.

We had sex in the afternoon and then I stopped messaging her and I didn't see her again.

I didn't dislike her, but in person there wasn't much there.

I had quite a few interesting women in Tac. A doctor working in the ICU, infectious diseases… she bought me a big packet of medicines as a gift, which was nice. Another was a virgin and then not a virgin. Fun stuff.

But it was time for a fairytale too. It had been a while since I wrote a fairytale.

She walked confidently through the dark parking lot. Hood up.

I stood on the balcony above the stairs.

'Blue shirt?' she messaged.

As we entered the shared space outside my room, I turned and looked at her.

It wasn't a 'love-at-first-sight WOWZERS, but it was one of those hard to describe moments, there was a pause in time. Some kind of realisation, a lost love in some other galaxy, some other timeline. It was a familiarity.

There was an elegance and ease to this hood girl that I rather enjoyed. She was also the best sex I'd had in a while, and even a contender for the top spot of all time.

Let that sink in.

A Contender For The Top Spot of All Time.

After HoodGirl left I ate some crisps, turned on the TV and began an evening pacing session.

The Man from U. N. C. L. E. was on and they were in room 304 and I was in room 304 and I first watched this movie in a cinema in Victoria, British Columbia and the woman in the film was called Victoria. Fun Stuff, Fun Stuff!

The last morning in Tacloban HoodGirl returned. Another session of top notch, super sex. Gold medalists. Well done us.

When we were finished, I think we both felt a little sad.

She zipped up her perfect brown tits behind her black hoodie and asked if I wanted to get lunch. I had time before the airport so I took her to KFC.

KFC was built for the romantic. A romantic like me.

When I got back to the table she asked if I ordered

I said yes

She had already ordered for both of us and paid for the meals. So I had two and I ate two.

An hour later we stood outside the catholic church digesting our chicken, the skies teasing rain.

She came to the airport with me.

I hadn't felt sad about a girl disappearing into the nothingness for years. But I felt a bit sad about it. Maybe I liked her. Maybe she was just great at sex. Maybe I should render her again.

I flew to Cebu on a propeller plane and left those thoughts behind.

But, then…

Cebu was melty-trash. Cebu was pus-shit.

I got off the bus and was walking the dark highway to my hotel when I fell into a storm drain.

I power-walked away with deep scratch-like cuts and the toes of my left foot nearly sheared off.

The main concern was rabies and then tetanus.

It all looked dirty.

I tore off my clothes and showered and soaped the injuries.

I get paranoid about these things, breaks to the skin. But I should. We all should. I carefully placed my broken toes into my stolen flip flops and went to the 7-Eleven at the corner of the street. I bought rubbing alcohol and felt better.

The next night some skank grabbed my cut up leg while I fucked her.

Foreign fluids on my dry blood. Oh no. Yuckies.

I stood in the shower, wall tap running on the worst of my gashes, broken shower head too.

The only nice place I'd been in this country was Tacloban. The only place I wanted to spend any more time here was Tacloban.

Thoughts of HoodGirl were starting to pop up.

Usually phone application girls are phone application girls. They come, they cum, they go. But HoodGirl was starting to be mythologised. A dangerous thing. So dangerous that after a night and a half in Cebu I booked a ticket back to Tac to see her again.

Because I wanted it. I wanted more of her. More high quality sex with something similar to feeling. More nights and mornings like those.

I moved to a new hotel and focused my thoughts on my return to Tacloban and finishing this giant trip in style.

I ticked off the few things I knew I wanted to see in the city and then that was that. Cebu was done.

I went back to stay the final night in the first hotel and saw a beautiful dead dog on the sidewalk.

My heart broke.

I didn't hate Cebu but it just wasn't the time. This wasn't our time, this time around. It started by falling into that storm drain and it ended with that dead dog. I made the right decision in leaving, in going back to what I wanted.

It was a risk though. Heading back to see a girl so soon after leaving can be romantic or doom anything further. I was confident I could turn things in my favour.

The risk ended in reward.

We watched Money Heist, fucked like the Earth was falling over and on the last full day before I left we went to her family home and made a Fillipino chicken dish.

Who knows why. Some people are special. Even if just for a little while.

I pulled her in for goodbye kisses and she left once more by jeepney.

Re-rendered. Re-vanished.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part IV - Makati Madness, Tacloban Fairytales, Sentosa Spaceship

Published March 27, 2024

Country 58 - Philippines: Dirt, Sex, Fairytales

I sat down in my seat to K-pop classics blasting from the plane's speakers.

Twice, IU.

Nice touch.

A woman and her young son sat next to me. Despite the father across the aisle, she was flirty and giving me eyes, lots of eyes, fuck me here, it's fine, it's fine eyes.

I rather enjoyed it.

My worry of falling out of the sky and into oblivion left me long ago, but one place I still feel angsty is flying in this area of the world. There's something about the triangle trapezoid from Taiwan to Singapore to Darwin to Taiwan. Tropical monsters fly the skies here and they get hungry.

It was a mostly peaceful flight, until I closed my eyes on descent and opened them as we were coming into land.

'We're going to crash.' I calmly said to myself.

The plane was coming in too fast and at a deadly angle.

Just a second after I finished the thought, we took back off into the sky.

My first missed approach and my first go-around.

12 years of hardcore world travel and so many flights, and here I was, heading back into the sky, undercarriage retracting, into the darkness of the clouds. Nearly dead, not dead, land the fucking thing,,,

CRAZY SHIT, FUN STUFF, BRADEARTH FOREVER

The drive into the city was fucking horrible.

The traffic moved slower than a snail full o' pie.

. . .a snail full o’pie. Yahuh!

I didn't connect with the city I saw out the window.

I spent many days in Makati. And my time in Makati will be written as a poem.

Here is the poem... --- >>>

love hotel, fuck hotel

fancy hotel, dildos a-chargin', dildo's stuck on the TV

dicks and tits and ARSE

makati avenue

av

en

ue

the dirty little children beggin’

the dirty little adults doing the same

dirty, dirty

filthy

foock makadi

A few days in I developed a cough. I blamed it on the pollution and limited my daily excursions to once a day for food.

At Christmas a large chunk of the population headed home, back off to the suburbs, back off to the provinces and I cranked up the AC. The cold artificial wind made me feel better, so did the absence of filipinos n' filipinas and all their motor smoke.

On Christmas Eve morning some kind of human elf monster whore woke me up screaming hell at 5am. An unpaid hooker or surprise ladyboy rejected by some sex tourist prolly. I flipped the pillow to the col’ side and fell back asleep.

The screaming in the darkness down the hall at some point became calming. I dreamed and I dreamt of boats in space in regions with no pain.

I fucking hated the Philippines. I just wanted to be in bed, away from the fumes and the very sad hordes of dirty street people, especially the little ones, the little dirty street people, running up beside me beg-beg-begging for dat coin-coin-coin, coming way too close to my bags of Jolliebee and 7-Eleven snacks.

Tut, Tut, Tut.

It's a sad reality, the Philippines is a helicopter country. One to jump from spot to spot and avoid what's on the floor. I was already bored now, and tired, I wanted more than anything the end of December and the time until mid-January to pass and for me to be on that flight to Singapore, to smell that 'spicy perfume', eat kaya, see some old spots and some new ones before flying off to beautiful cold England.

I reserved one day to see the little of Manila of any interest.

In the morning I walked across the bridge and to the river ferry station. Apparently this plastic bathtub, thrown together, children's art supplies for windows ferry needed a passport to ride. I walked back to the hotel and got my passport for a ferry boat.

The river was a dirt brown. The brown of the Thames looks sugary, a delightful chocolate milk, this brown was a murky diarrhoea with deep trash lining the bowl.

As we crossed into the Malacañang Palace, the boat's engines throttled back and we floated quietly through the Philippine presidential bubble. I took out my phone to record, this precipitated a meltdown of the crew on board.

With the one exception of Malacañang, the poverty along the river was horrid. Further cementing the view that there is something deeply wrong with the Philippines.

The day finally came to leave Manilla for Tacloban. A city that most visitors to the Philippines don't even consider. I wanted to see it. The entire city was destroyed ten years ago, flattened by the strongest typhoon in history. That was more interesting to me than a polluted beach.

The plane to Tac met wall after wall of cloud.

I love the feeling of hitting the clouds. The anticipation.

The punch to the gut and the madness inside the plastic that follows.

At the airport a girl was waiting for me.

We squeezed into a jeepney full of Filipinos and Filipinas and rode to my hotel.

Tacloban City had an odd mix of highlights.

In terms of tourism, the two things it had going for it was its own destruction and General Douglas MacArthur.

After new years, me and the airport girl headed on jeepneys and tricycles to Palo to see the famous statue of MacArthur and Friends and the flood wall built to keep back the ocean after the typhoon.

We had sex in the afternoon and then I stopped messaging her and I didn't see her again.

I didn't dislike her, but in person there wasn't much there.

I had quite a few interesting women in Tac. A doctor working in the ICU, infectious diseases… she bought me a big packet of medicines as a gift, which was nice. Another was a virgin and then not a virgin. Fun stuff.

But it was time for a fairytale too. It had been a while since I wrote a fairytale.

She walked confidently through the dark parking lot. Hood up.

I stood on the balcony above the stairs.

'Blue shirt?' she messaged.

As we entered the shared space outside my room, I turned and looked at her.

It wasn't a 'love-at-first-sight WOWZERS, but it was one of those hard to describe moments, there was a pause in time. Some kind of realisation, a lost love in some other galaxy, some other timeline. It was a familiarity.

There was an elegance and ease to this hood girl that I rather enjoyed. She was also the best sex I'd had in a while, and even a contender for the top spot of all time.

Let that sink in.

A Contender For The Top Spot of All Time.

After HoodGirl left I ate some crisps, turned on the TV and began an evening pacing session.

The Man from U. N. C. L. E. was on and they were in room 304 and I was in room 304 and I first watched this movie in a cinema in Victoria, British Columbia and the woman in the film was called Victoria. Fun Stuff, Fun Stuff!

The last morning in Tacloban HoodGirl returned. Another session of top notch, super sex. Gold medalists. Well done us.

When we were finished, I think we both felt a little sad.

She zipped up her perfect brown tits behind her black hoodie and asked if I wanted to get lunch. I had time before the airport so I took her to KFC.

KFC was built for the romantic. A romantic like me.

When I got back to the table she asked if I ordered

I said yes

She had already ordered for both of us and paid for the meals. So I had two and I ate two.

An hour later we stood outside the catholic church digesting our chicken, the skies teasing rain.

She came to the airport with me.

I hadn't felt sad about a girl disappearing into the nothingness for years. But I felt a bit sad about it. Maybe I liked her. Maybe she was just great at sex. Maybe I should render her again.

I flew to Cebu on a propeller plane and left those thoughts behind.

But, then…

Cebu was melty-trash. Cebu was pus-shit.

I got off the bus and was walking the dark highway to my hotel when I fell into a storm drain.

I power-walked away with deep scratch-like cuts and the toes of my left foot nearly sheared off.

The main concern was rabies and then tetanus.

It all looked dirty.

I tore off my clothes and showered and soaped the injuries.

I get paranoid about these things, breaks to the skin. But I should. We all should. I carefully placed my broken toes into my stolen flip flops and went to the 7-Eleven at the corner of the street. I bought rubbing alcohol and felt better.

The next night some skank grabbed my cut up leg while I fucked her.

Foreign fluids on my dry blood. Oh no. Yuckies.

I stood in the shower, wall tap running on the worst of my gashes, broken shower head too.

The only nice place I'd been in this country was Tacloban. The only place I wanted to spend any more time here was Tacloban.

Thoughts of HoodGirl were starting to pop up.

Usually phone application girls are phone application girls. They come, they cum, they go. But HoodGirl was starting to be mythologised. A dangerous thing. So dangerous that after a night and a half in Cebu I booked a ticket back to Tac to see her again.

Because I wanted it. I wanted more of her. More high quality sex with something similar to feeling. More nights and mornings like those.

I moved to a new hotel and focused my thoughts on my return to Tacloban and finishing this giant trip in style.

I ticked off the few things I knew I wanted to see in the city and then that was that. Cebu was done.

I went back to stay the final night in the first hotel and saw a beautiful dead dog on the sidewalk.

My heart broke.

I didn't hate Cebu but it just wasn't the time. This wasn't our time, this time around. It started by falling into that storm drain and it ended with that dead dog. I made the right decision in leaving, in going back to what I wanted.

It was a risk though. Heading back to see a girl so soon after leaving can be romantic or doom anything further. I was confident I could turn things in my favour.

The risk ended in reward.

We watched Money Heist, fucked like the Earth was falling over and on the last full day before I left we went to her family home and made a Fillipino chicken dish.

Who knows why. Some people are special. Even if just for a little while.

I pulled her in for goodbye kisses and she left once more by jeepney.

Re-rendered. Re-vanished.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part III - Through Borneo

Published March 26, 2024

KL Again

By the time I boarded the flight to Kuala Lumpur, it was hard to tell which way it would go - 70% I'll be better by the time I'm in bed in Chinatown, 30% medical evacuation, incubated, fighting for life.

The flight was relaxing, the green wing tips grooved the line and I sat there in my hat. Day and night. Light and dark. I took some dick pissing pics in the bathroom and dreamed.

We landed in the hot dark. Malaysia again. I had a long night, morning and day ahead.

As I was inflating and deflating my lungs, 'Seize the day' by Avenged Sevenfold started playing from the store next to me and a beautiful Chinese-Malay girl began swinging her leg my way.

I popped a lozenge and sent my mind into my chest for a talk. And so to the soundtrack of 2006 rock and roll I rallied the troops for the fight.

I was sick for most of that time in KL, only finally starting to come out of the soup on my last full day in the city.

I repeated my new mantra often - REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

I had been in Malaysia early in the year at the end of ‘An Asia Trip’ and the previous year for the beginning of ‘An Asia Trip’, I was also here four years before, before the pandemic. KL was becoming my main home in Asia.

The highlight this time around was a walk I took in the warm afternoon rain. Still sick, still coughing…

I set that all aside for a few hours though and enjoyed some time in one of my joyful places.

I walked every floor at least twice. Probably more, looking for a kaya toast joint not stacked to the ceiling with humans.

Looking for the best choice for some real toast.

I was now better and walking around the vastly unnecessary but fucking fantastic airport mall of Klia2.

I found a branch of The Old Town White Coffee without too many sweaty crust-munching people and went inside. They have three? of these things in the same mall, just like they have three? of everything in the same mall.

I enjoyed my 'enriched' hot chocolate and kaya toast with thick finger sticks of butter before going through security. The amount of butter in this thing was super-fucking-overkill. For the artery plaque budget, it's a once a year indulgent injection, maybe once a decade.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part III - Through Borneo

Published March 26, 2024

KL Again

By the time I boarded the flight to Kuala Lumpur, it was hard to tell which way it would go - 70% I'll be better by the time I'm in bed in Chinatown, 30% medical evacuation, incubated, fighting for life.

The flight was relaxing, the green wing tips grooved the line and I sat there in my hat. Day and night. Light and dark. I took some dick pissing pics in the bathroom and dreamed.

We landed in the hot dark. Malaysia again. I had a long night, morning and day ahead.

As I was inflating and deflating my lungs, 'Seize the day' by Avenged Sevenfold started playing from the store next to me and a beautiful Chinese-Malay girl began swinging her leg my way.

I popped a lozenge and sent my mind into my chest for a talk. And so to the soundtrack of 2006 rock and roll I rallied the troops for the fight.

I was sick for most of that time in KL, only finally starting to come out of the soup on my last full day in the city.

I repeated my new mantra often - REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

REST. RELAX. RECOVER.

I had been in Malaysia early in the year at the end of ‘An Asia Trip’ and the previous year for the beginning of ‘An Asia Trip’, I was also here four years before, before the pandemic. KL was becoming my main home in Asia.

The highlight this time around was a walk I took in the warm afternoon rain. Still sick, still coughing…

I set that all aside for a few hours though and enjoyed some time in one of my joyful places.

I walked every floor at least twice. Probably more, looking for a kaya toast joint not stacked to the ceiling with humans.

Looking for the best choice for some real toast.

I was now better and walking around the vastly unnecessary but fucking fantastic airport mall of Klia2.

I found a branch of The Old Town White Coffee without too many sweaty crust-munching people and went inside. They have three? of these things in the same mall, just like they have three? of everything in the same mall.

I enjoyed my 'enriched' hot chocolate and kaya toast with thick finger sticks of butter before going through security. The amount of butter in this thing was super-fucking-overkill. For the artery plaque budget, it's a once a year indulgent injection, maybe once a decade.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part II - Georgia to Yerevan to Dubai to Oman

Published March 25, 2024

Tbilisi and The Night Train to Yerevan

Tbilisi was better. Most of it looks like a Latvian warehouse, but not in an entirely terrible way. It had some feeling to it, feeling was the thing missing in Batumi.

I went back to the same accommodation, the small rooms near the train station.

After a few days enjoying my tiny room and the streets around it, I went out to see everything I wanted of the Georgian capital.

I started at the cathedral, one of the nicest, the golden sand colour of its exterior was a majestic statement from the country itself. If only my son wasn't hanging on a cross inside it. They did have one nice non-crucifixion painting of him though, I did appreciate that.

After the cathedral I walked through the centre of the city to the fortress up on the hill.

A denim-wearing Russian offered me coke or cock or something up on the hillside. I pushed past him and continued on the snaking path. At the end of it was a blank space, a platform to look at some depressed trees. I turned around and walked back to the entrance of the crumbling fortress.

Inside stood a dark, disturbed church and a pit of powdery orange. It would be a sugary scramble to the top for one of Earth's great urban views.

I smashed my hand into the broken rocks and a large shard of glass embedded in my hand. I looked at it, irritated, knowing all the possibilities. Luckily, my iron skin had protected me, what at first looked dirty and diseased, quickly turned a non-issue.

At the tippy top I caught sight of what that snaking path had been for… the Mother of Georgia.

Fuck. Cunt.

Cunt. Fuck.

Another trip, back the same direction.

To stare at her giant arse and giant tits and then call it a day.

I was hurt and hungry. It was dark when I left the metro. I bought ramen from the store and a large stick of bread. Breaking it, dipping it, slurping it. The steam in my eyes and up my nose.

True healing.

On the last day a film crew rudely tried to stop me and others from using the public street. I walked into the street anyway, Georgian production staff running after me, screaming, some crying, grown men crying.

Public streets should never be used for filming unless I'm in the production, then yeah and fuck the public.

After seeing a few more things in the capital I grew bored and developed a mystery fever. I headed back to the central station early for my night train to Yerevan.

Before the train I ate a large pasty and creamy pasta at the station's dining hall. For an old Soviet station, beaten black and blue, this was a nice surprise. The green-walled hall was spacious and had a dystopian tech start-up feel to it, and the food wasn't bad.

After dinner I took the steps to the platforms and walked in darkness between two old trains, both seemingly abandoned. The one to the right looked more suited for an international overnight journey but it was the little train, only a few carriages long, with the Armenian railways logo faded into it, that would claim the honour.

I had a top berth, but for now I sat down on the lower. A Russian couple appeared opposite me. They looked nervous, something I've found of Russians since the war began. The girl was somewhat beautiful, perhaps even beautiful.

She had the biggest lips I'd ever seen on a girl…

two swollen

wet shiny

sticky pink

boiled sausages

yet they somehow fit her face.

The train stopped just as Beautiful Big Lips had slipped into her pyjamas and tucked into bed.

I stepped off the train to three barking dogs. A mix of wild and mascot within them.

We lined up on the cold platform for the passport exit stamps out of Georgia.

The dogs jumped and play bit my fellow passengers while I stood ready to kill.

My mind replayed last December and this January and the international rabies vaccination hunt that commenced after a dog attacked me in Northeast Thailand. I didn't want another saga of chasing injections, like I had in Laos and Vietnam.

I approached the window, some fingers flicked around inside my passport. Passports are funny things. Both authoritarian and romantic. And a soon to be relic of international travel.

I pocketed the burgundy book, avoided a bite and got back on the train to sleep until Yerevan.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part II - Georgia to Yerevan to Dubai to Oman

Published March 25, 2024

Tbilisi and The Night Train to Yerevan

Tbilisi was better. Most of it looks like a Latvian warehouse, but not in an entirely terrible way. It had some feeling to it, feeling was the thing missing in Batumi.

I went back to the same accommodation, the small rooms near the train station.

After a few days enjoying my tiny room and the streets around it, I went out to see everything I wanted of the Georgian capital.

I started at the cathedral, one of the nicest, the golden sand colour of its exterior was a majestic statement from the country itself. If only my son wasn't hanging on a cross inside it. They did have one nice non-crucifixion painting of him though, I did appreciate that.

After the cathedral I walked through the centre of the city to the fortress up on the hill.

A denim-wearing Russian offered me coke or cock or something up on the hillside. I pushed past him and continued on the snaking path. At the end of it was a blank space, a platform to look at some depressed trees. I turned around and walked back to the entrance of the crumbling fortress.

Inside stood a dark, disturbed church and a pit of powdery orange. It would be a sugary scramble to the top for one of Earth's great urban views.

I smashed my hand into the broken rocks and a large shard of glass embedded in my hand. I looked at it, irritated, knowing all the possibilities. Luckily, my iron skin had protected me, what at first looked dirty and diseased, quickly turned a non-issue.

At the tippy top I caught sight of what that snaking path had been for… the Mother of Georgia.

Fuck. Cunt.

Cunt. Fuck.

Another trip, back the same direction.

To stare at her giant arse and giant tits and then call it a day.

I was hurt and hungry. It was dark when I left the metro. I bought ramen from the store and a large stick of bread. Breaking it, dipping it, slurping it. The steam in my eyes and up my nose.

True healing.

On the last day a film crew rudely tried to stop me and others from using the public street. I walked into the street anyway, Georgian production staff running after me, screaming, some crying, grown men crying.

Public streets should never be used for filming unless I'm in the production, then yeah and fuck the public.

After seeing a few more things in the capital I grew bored and developed a mystery fever. I headed back to the central station early for my night train to Yerevan.

Before the train I ate a large pasty and creamy pasta at the station's dining hall. For an old Soviet station, beaten black and blue, this was a nice surprise. The green-walled hall was spacious and had a dystopian tech start-up feel to it, and the food wasn't bad.

After dinner I took the steps to the platforms and walked in darkness between two old trains, both seemingly abandoned. The one to the right looked more suited for an international overnight journey but it was the little train, only a few carriages long, with the Armenian railways logo faded into it, that would claim the honour.

I had a top berth, but for now I sat down on the lower. A Russian couple appeared opposite me. They looked nervous, something I've found of Russians since the war began. The girl was somewhat beautiful, perhaps even beautiful.

She had the biggest lips I'd ever seen on a girl…

two swollen

wet shiny

sticky pink

boiled sausages

yet they somehow fit her face.

The train stopped just as Beautiful Big Lips had slipped into her pyjamas and tucked into bed.

I stepped off the train to three barking dogs. A mix of wild and mascot within them.

We lined up on the cold platform for the passport exit stamps out of Georgia.

The dogs jumped and play bit my fellow passengers while I stood ready to kill.

My mind replayed last December and this January and the international rabies vaccination hunt that commenced after a dog attacked me in Northeast Thailand. I didn't want another saga of chasing injections, like I had in Laos and Vietnam.

I approached the window, some fingers flicked around inside my passport. Passports are funny things. Both authoritarian and romantic. And a soon to be relic of international travel.

I pocketed the burgundy book, avoided a bite and got back on the train to sleep until Yerevan.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part I - Bucharest, Istanbul, Tbilisi, Batumi

Published March 24, 2024

GO! England to Romania

It started as Happy Birthday and evolved into a not-too-terrible but still pretty kack-handed rendition of My Heart Will Go On. Late night, LUTON! People tend to hate this airport, but I find nothing egregious here, except maybe for the fucking piano. Don't put a fucking piano in an airport. If you do, lock the lid at night, or at least electrify the keys.

There was no sleep to be had until the afternoon of the next day when I arrived at my hostel in Bucharest, which was actually a hotel but called itself a hostel. This was the beginning of Asia Trip 7, in Romania, a very non-asian country, but fuck you, I make the rules 🙂

The main goal of the trip was hitting my 20th new country of the year and 58th country overall. I had been deliberating, moving things this way and then that for months. As I packed and ran the bath, only hours before leaving for the airport, everything was still up in the air with each possible path featuring several big annoyances.

That was all until I got in the bath, relaxed into the hot water and finally found the perfect route. I conjured up a ridiculous £28 flight from Yerevan to Abu Dhabi out of thin air and laughed my arse off with glee.

I decided to throw away my booked flight from Bucharest to Abu Dhabi and head on through Türkiye and the Caucasus instead.

Romania, Türkiye, Georgia, Armenia, UAE, Oman, Malaysia, Brunei, Malaysia, Philippines

I would be embarking on a sword slash across the planet Earth.

Bucharest wasn't what I was expecting. Bucharest, Romania, Eastern Europe. Another one of those.

The Bucharest in my mind was a mix between the Balkan countries I had visited in September and maybe Hungary. It turned out more like Paris. Beautiful. Different. Beautiful.

Bucharest wasn't a city of dazzling attractions, but walking the streets is often one of the more enjoyable ways to spend time and these streets had something to them.

I saw the main tourist attractions over two mornings and spent the rest of the time wandering.

The rain pelted the concrete as I stepped outside the door. I went back upstairs and grabbed my baseball cap. The amount of protection a simple cap offers you is something that needs to be studied.

I crunched the faded orange and yellow leaves underneath my running shoes. The weather was somewhere between bubbly warm and tickly cool. I was walking to the parliament, one of only two landmarks I wanted to see. It was supposedly 'The heaviest building in the world'.

I saw it. And I also saw the shitty travelling fairground stuck in front of it.

I walked around and got the best videos and photos I could with this fairground bullshit.

It was a situation both Gay and homo-sexual, and not the positive kind of either.

3 outta ten, a DISGRACE!

Didn't even look that heavy.

Steam rose from manhole covers buried in the black streets. Trees, brown and green whispered kindness. Wet soggy asphalt. The hint of rain and hallmarks of fall held me close.

It was a nice Buchy, nice!

The next morning I went to visit the fake Arc de Triomphe, not as bad in person as it looks in the pictures. The best knock-off is still the one in Vientiane, Laos. It looks ancient and infected. The Romanian copy is a fading yellow.

As I walked back down the long avenue with the obligatory homeless for each bench, I quickened my pace.

I was running late for my flight to Istanbul.

But being me I refused to be running late for anything. So I slowed down and enjoyed the air, enjoyed the trees. It was beautiful here and it was a beautiful time of year

I decided to alter time to my favour, far better than the alternative of rushing about in a silly panic.

I left Romania with better thoughts of the place than its reputation suggested. Nice when that happens.

The first country of this global assault course, done.

...continue reading

Asia Trip 7 Part I - Bucharest, Istanbul, Tbilisi, Batumi

Published March 24, 2024

GO! England to Romania

It started as Happy Birthday and evolved into a not-too-terrible but still pretty kack-handed rendition of My Heart Will Go On. Late night, LUTON! People tend to hate this airport, but I find nothing egregious here, except maybe for the fucking piano. Don't put a fucking piano in an airport. If you do, lock the lid at night, or at least electrify the keys.

There was no sleep to be had until the afternoon of the next day when I arrived at my hostel in Bucharest, which was actually a hotel but called itself a hostel. This was the beginning of Asia Trip 7, in Romania, a very non-asian country, but fuck you, I make the rules 🙂

The main goal of the trip was hitting my 20th new country of the year and 58th country overall. I had been deliberating, moving things this way and then that for months. As I packed and ran the bath, only hours before leaving for the airport, everything was still up in the air with each possible path featuring several big annoyances.

That was all until I got in the bath, relaxed into the hot water and finally found the perfect route. I conjured up a ridiculous £28 flight from Yerevan to Abu Dhabi out of thin air and laughed my arse off with glee.

I decided to throw away my booked flight from Bucharest to Abu Dhabi and head on through Türkiye and the Caucasus instead.

Romania, Türkiye, Georgia, Armenia, UAE, Oman, Malaysia, Brunei, Malaysia, Philippines

I would be embarking on a sword slash across the planet Earth.

Bucharest wasn't what I was expecting. Bucharest, Romania, Eastern Europe. Another one of those.

The Bucharest in my mind was a mix between the Balkan countries I had visited in September and maybe Hungary. It turned out more like Paris. Beautiful. Different. Beautiful.

Bucharest wasn't a city of dazzling attractions, but walking the streets is often one of the more enjoyable ways to spend time and these streets had something to them.

I saw the main tourist attractions over two mornings and spent the rest of the time wandering.

The rain pelted the concrete as I stepped outside the door. I went back upstairs and grabbed my baseball cap. The amount of protection a simple cap offers you is something that needs to be studied.

I crunched the faded orange and yellow leaves underneath my running shoes. The weather was somewhere between bubbly warm and tickly cool. I was walking to the parliament, one of only two landmarks I wanted to see. It was supposedly 'The heaviest building in the world'.

I saw it. And I also saw the shitty travelling fairground stuck in front of it.

I walked around and got the best videos and photos I could with this fairground bullshit.

It was a situation both Gay and homo-sexual, and not the positive kind of either.

3 outta ten, a DISGRACE!

Didn't even look that heavy.

Steam rose from manhole covers buried in the black streets. Trees, brown and green whispered kindness. Wet soggy asphalt. The hint of rain and hallmarks of fall held me close.

It was a nice Buchy, nice!

The next morning I went to visit the fake Arc de Triomphe, not as bad in person as it looks in the pictures. The best knock-off is still the one in Vientiane, Laos. It looks ancient and infected. The Romanian copy is a fading yellow.

As I walked back down the long avenue with the obligatory homeless for each bench, I quickened my pace.

I was running late for my flight to Istanbul.

But being me I refused to be running late for anything. So I slowed down and enjoyed the air, enjoyed the trees. It was beautiful here and it was a beautiful time of year

I decided to alter time to my favour, far better than the alternative of rushing about in a silly panic.

I left Romania with better thoughts of the place than its reputation suggested. Nice when that happens.

The first country of this global assault course, done.

...continue reading

a le SUPER FUCKIN' FUBAR Blog Post

Published February 3, 2024

that bitch from that show Lim Ji-yeon still give me the blood push. cock yaha.

she's actually my laptop wallpaper. yeah wall paper.

cigarete in mouth about to suck and shank, suck and shank and drive away on some diamond encrusted clown bike.

I'm an Artist I'm a Poet

WRESTLING HAS MORE THAN ONE ROYAL FAMILY

it's not so cold here in england. wherever that is, whatever that is.

the king has cancer, CANCER KING! it's not arse cancer either. oh boy, oh boy. better call the fire brigade. :/ it might be arse cancer

I love my bath tubs.

welcome back to the bradlands.

I'm writing the Asia Trip 7 blog post currently. It's a beast, gonna be well over 5,000 words. I wrote it as I went, well some of it. Now I have to give it colour and structure and then structure and colour as well.

little naked cream-covered children running around burning people with sprinklers, throwing hard boiled eggs at employees and amputees and screaming the bon jovi lyrics.

I'm working out a lot now, HARD TOO. every day, except for rest days which are every 3 or 4 days usually. the muscle is really building again. it went away when I stopped last time, that's what usully happens.

FUCKING HELL I GET SO HARD. writing makes me hard.

apples and oranges.

and bananas.

people are wearing there phones on their heads now. not just a few people. lots and lots and lots more will surely join when the face phones drop in price.

It's happeneded they've done it,,, in a year it will be normal

OH NO

go live in the mountains

yes please

or at sea

yes please

#yesplease

get the fuck out of my KITCHEN

Peace and Love

...continue reading

a le SUPER FUCKIN' FUBAR Blog Post

Published February 3, 2024

that bitch from that show Lim Ji-yeon still give me the blood push. cock yaha.

she's actually my laptop wallpaper. yeah wall paper.

cigarete in mouth about to suck and shank, suck and shank and drive away on some diamond encrusted clown bike.

I'm an Artist I'm a Poet

WRESTLING HAS MORE THAN ONE ROYAL FAMILY

it's not so cold here in england. wherever that is, whatever that is.

the king has cancer, CANCER KING! it's not arse cancer either. oh boy, oh boy. better call the fire brigade. :/ it might be arse cancer

I love my bath tubs.

welcome back to the bradlands.

I'm writing the Asia Trip 7 blog post currently. It's a beast, gonna be well over 5,000 words. I wrote it as I went, well some of it. Now I have to give it colour and structure and then structure and colour as well.

little naked cream-covered children running around burning people with sprinklers, throwing hard boiled eggs at employees and amputees and screaming the bon jovi lyrics.

I'm working out a lot now, HARD TOO. every day, except for rest days which are every 3 or 4 days usually. the muscle is really building again. it went away when I stopped last time, that's what usully happens.

FUCKING HELL I GET SO HARD. writing makes me hard.

apples and oranges.

and bananas.

people are wearing there phones on their heads now. not just a few people. lots and lots and lots more will surely join when the face phones drop in price.

It's happeneded they've done it,,, in a year it will be normal

OH NO

go live in the mountains

yes please

or at sea

yes please

#yesplease

get the fuck out of my KITCHEN

Peace and Love

...continue reading

Luxembourg, Switzerland, Liechtenstein - My 48th, 49th and 50th countries

Published October 23, 2023

I kissed my cat and I kissed my dog, 'love you, back soon', I hugged my mum, she had just recovered from COVID and I had been taking care of her while my dad was away.

I stepped out into the night and got in the car. Qiuet, England, Fall.

Across the street from the bus station, I took a photo of my dad in the car. Something told me I should. He has driven me back and forth a lot of times from airports and yet I don't think I've ever taken a photo of him like that.

I left the car when the gleaming white National Express coach pulled into the station.

I was met by the driver, "London?" he asked, "Yeah." I replied.

He said he had to go to the depot and refuel, but would be as quick as he could. I walked back over the road and got back in the car. Why not take the passenger then instead of having to drive back?

Maybe it was policy, maybe it was an intellectual oversight...

Stansted has become an office of mine over these last few years. The cheap flights to Europe, oftentimes departing from and arriving there. It's not my favourite airport. But if you get to know it, it reveals its secrets - where plug and USB sockets actually work (the vast majority of them don't), the seating area downstairs that's always quiet, the best toilets, the coach station waiting area that's far better than staying with the packed hordes until security opens at 3am.

This stay was no different to any of the others. The usual wanderings.

The airside Burger King opens at four.

I chose a plant-based whopper for breakfast. I felt like eating beef but I didn't want to go back and eat it again. COWS ARE OFF THE MENU. It was a tasty alternative. I was happy about that.

On the plane a potato of a man, a coughing, sneezing, nose-blowing potato of a man was sitting next to me.

Execute them! The state needs to execute them!

If you do these stupid, inconsiderate things that effect human beings in public, you should lose your right to life. It's rare to travel and not come across these people, this trip had several. It's not the sophistication of psychopathy, it's not the impulsive hilarity of sociopathy, it's mindlessness, unthinking bodies who get to share the air. Capital punishment. Some test to weed them out is needed, we can test multiple times, in multiple ways, there can be swift appeals.

But ultimately, several weeks, maybe months after the process begins, those found to be this type of person, must be killed by the loving hands of the law.

I fly so often and I'm so used to the routine safety of flying through the air that I find myself excited when the possibility of danger enters the picture.

'Oh, this might actually crash' I said to myself, as the plane jolted violently from one spot in space to another. We were going fast, the movement of the plane was erratic, the ground was near. A rough landing, no blood.

...continue reading

Luxembourg, Switzerland, Liechtenstein - My 48th, 49th and 50th countries

Published October 23, 2023

I kissed my cat and I kissed my dog, 'love you, back soon', I hugged my mum, she had just recovered from COVID and I had been taking care of her while my dad was away.

I stepped out into the night and got in the car. Qiuet, England, Fall.

Across the street from the bus station, I took a photo of my dad in the car. Something told me I should. He has driven me back and forth a lot of times from airports and yet I don't think I've ever taken a photo of him like that.

I left the car when the gleaming white National Express coach pulled into the station.

I was met by the driver, "London?" he asked, "Yeah." I replied.

He said he had to go to the depot and refuel, but would be as quick as he could. I walked back over the road and got back in the car. Why not take the passenger then instead of having to drive back?

Maybe it was policy, maybe it was an intellectual oversight...

Stansted has become an office of mine over these last few years. The cheap flights to Europe, oftentimes departing from and arriving there. It's not my favourite airport. But if you get to know it, it reveals its secrets - where plug and USB sockets actually work (the vast majority of them don't), the seating area downstairs that's always quiet, the best toilets, the coach station waiting area that's far better than staying with the packed hordes until security opens at 3am.

This stay was no different to any of the others. The usual wanderings.

The airside Burger King opens at four.

I chose a plant-based whopper for breakfast. I felt like eating beef but I didn't want to go back and eat it again. COWS ARE OFF THE MENU. It was a tasty alternative. I was happy about that.

On the plane a potato of a man, a coughing, sneezing, nose-blowing potato of a man was sitting next to me.

Execute them! The state needs to execute them!

If you do these stupid, inconsiderate things that effect human beings in public, you should lose your right to life. It's rare to travel and not come across these people, this trip had several. It's not the sophistication of psychopathy, it's not the impulsive hilarity of sociopathy, it's mindlessness, unthinking bodies who get to share the air. Capital punishment. Some test to weed them out is needed, we can test multiple times, in multiple ways, there can be swift appeals.

But ultimately, several weeks, maybe months after the process begins, those found to be this type of person, must be killed by the loving hands of the law.

I fly so often and I'm so used to the routine safety of flying through the air that I find myself excited when the possibility of danger enters the picture.

'Oh, this might actually crash' I said to myself, as the plane jolted violently from one spot in space to another. We were going fast, the movement of the plane was erratic, the ground was near. A rough landing, no blood.

...continue reading

The Balkans and Slovakia Trip

Published October 1, 2023

I lay in the bathtub in the Premier Inn, a disgraceful £4, ten minute bus ride away from Stansted Airport.

Soaking your body in the bath before a brutal trip is a real pleasure. At this point I had my perfect version of the trip planned. But some things you could call 'doubts' were knocking around my head. They would keep knocking around my head until I sat overlooking Belgrade from the fortress in the setting sun, there I decided definitively, 'I will complete the perfect version of this trip.'

It turns out I did. Seven new countries in 15 days. A 19 day trip overall. Balkans done, Slovakia done.

I stared in the mirror. And took photos that could be used in a documentary some day.

Netflix DADUNNNN...

Sinister music. Voiceover. Lighting. Testimony. I looked like I was about to smash the mirror and eat the shattered pieces.

I was annoyed that my one shirt for the trip had a faint white stain on it.

A part of me didn't want to be on this trip, a part of me wanted to head back to my laptop, my desk chair, my bathtub. But here I was, and I had my mission, my Special Mission. I had to go and get more countries. Countries are my main supply right now and it was time to add more to the list!

I finished off some blueberry pancakes I bought the day before, packed up all my luggage into the pockets of my new jacket, and headed out the door.

...continue reading

The Balkans and Slovakia Trip

Published October 1, 2023

I lay in the bathtub in the Premier Inn, a disgraceful £4, ten minute bus ride away from Stansted Airport.

Soaking your body in the bath before a brutal trip is a real pleasure. At this point I had my perfect version of the trip planned. But some things you could call 'doubts' were knocking around my head. They would keep knocking around my head until I sat overlooking Belgrade from the fortress in the setting sun, there I decided definitively, 'I will complete the perfect version of this trip.'

It turns out I did. Seven new countries in 15 days. A 19 day trip overall. Balkans done, Slovakia done.

I stared in the mirror. And took photos that could be used in a documentary some day.

Netflix DADUNNNN...

Sinister music. Voiceover. Lighting. Testimony. I looked like I was about to smash the mirror and eat the shattered pieces.

I was annoyed that my one shirt for the trip had a faint white stain on it.

A part of me didn't want to be on this trip, a part of me wanted to head back to my laptop, my desk chair, my bathtub. But here I was, and I had my mission, my Special Mission. I had to go and get more countries. Countries are my main supply right now and it was time to add more to the list!

I finished off some blueberry pancakes I bought the day before, packed up all my luggage into the pockets of my new jacket, and headed out the door.

...continue reading

The Horrors of Ageing

Published August 21, 2023

Ageing, like death is something to be fought.

It's silly beans, and I do not like silly beans.

The avoidance of death and the fantasy of being able to actually escape it is as old as humanity itself... probably not, but it's a catchy line. ...

It's definetly an old old thing though, and for a few generations now there has been the hope, not entirely delusional, that it could actually be done. If we can create the Sun on Earth with nuclear weaponry and hit golf balls on the moon, then why the fuck not? There is no law of nature that forbids it, and even if one is found, we could break it.

Maybe within decades the obstacles will finally be overcome and we will see the destruction of ageing and death, or maybe not, maybe the only hope is a long sleep in a cryogenic chamber, throwing all the chips on an awakening.

It does seem close though. And more than ever something more and more researchers and scientists and rich fucks are taking seriously.

A big problem is that most of the disparate grouping that seem to be fighting ageing, these fucks, are unbearable. Bryan Johnson, Peter Attia, Andrew Huberman, David Sinclair and the list goes on - twitching, potato bags, fizzing and popping... asparagus with ears.

Ultimately, the acceleration and explosion of AI into true complex superintelligence that can be controlled and tethered is the likely magic it will take to create a full suite of robust and lasting age prevention and reversal technologies and solve human death. The control and tethering being an important part of that magic, an important part that is extremely difficult.

In youth, we laugh at the inevitable and even though we know it will come, we still can't feel it. It's the same with death, we know at this point in time we will likely die and yet death is just some thing that happens to other people. Not me. But death is always next to us and the great ocean of ageing exists out beyond the shoreline waiting to take us under the waves.

...continue reading

The Horrors of Ageing

Published August 21, 2023

Ageing, like death is something to be fought.

It's silly beans, and I do not like silly beans.

The avoidance of death and the fantasy of being able to actually escape it is as old as humanity itself... probably not, but it's a catchy line. ...

It's definetly an old old thing though, and for a few generations now there has been the hope, not entirely delusional, that it could actually be done. If we can create the Sun on Earth with nuclear weaponry and hit golf balls on the moon, then why the fuck not? There is no law of nature that forbids it, and even if one is found, we could break it.

Maybe within decades the obstacles will finally be overcome and we will see the destruction of ageing and death, or maybe not, maybe the only hope is a long sleep in a cryogenic chamber, throwing all the chips on an awakening.

It does seem close though. And more than ever something more and more researchers and scientists and rich fucks are taking seriously.

A big problem is that most of the disparate grouping that seem to be fighting ageing, these fucks, are unbearable. Bryan Johnson, Peter Attia, Andrew Huberman, David Sinclair and the list goes on - twitching, potato bags, fizzing and popping... asparagus with ears.

Ultimately, the acceleration and explosion of AI into true complex superintelligence that can be controlled and tethered is the likely magic it will take to create a full suite of robust and lasting age prevention and reversal technologies and solve human death. The control and tethering being an important part of that magic, an important part that is extremely difficult.

In youth, we laugh at the inevitable and even though we know it will come, we still can't feel it. It's the same with death, we know at this point in time we will likely die and yet death is just some thing that happens to other people. Not me. But death is always next to us and the great ocean of ageing exists out beyond the shoreline waiting to take us under the waves.

...continue reading

Northern Cyprus

Published July 9, 2023

Last year when visiting Nicosia, I decided not to go into the North, I just didn't feel like it. This year though, it was time to add another asterisks country to the list.

Me and my mum ate some ice cream on Ledra Street, before crossing the border.

The capital was its usual piercing hot self. I had a hat now, I bought it from the local store in the tourist village we were staying. I liked my hat.

I walked towards the border in my hat, excited about going north, into a country that isn't a country that is a country.

I slid my passport through to the lady in the Northern Cypriot uniform. A giant mustache sat next to her in the booth. The kind of giant mustache that somehow fits perfectly with a country that is only recognised by one real country.

Despite the clear difference in everything, for some reason, there was no whiplash change in my mind, no 'WOW' ... everything seemed pretty samey, actually. ... or an amusement park take on being Turkish. There was something odd about it but also somehow boring.

...continue reading

Northern Cyprus

Published July 9, 2023

Last year when visiting Nicosia, I decided not to go into the North, I just didn't feel like it. This year though, it was time to add another asterisks country to the list.

Me and my mum ate some ice cream on Ledra Street, before crossing the border.

The capital was its usual piercing hot self. I had a hat now, I bought it from the local store in the tourist village we were staying. I liked my hat.

I walked towards the border in my hat, excited about going north, into a country that isn't a country that is a country.

I slid my passport through to the lady in the Northern Cypriot uniform. A giant mustache sat next to her in the booth. The kind of giant mustache that somehow fits perfectly with a country that is only recognised by one real country.

Despite the clear difference in everything, for some reason, there was no whiplash change in my mind, no 'WOW' ... everything seemed pretty samey, actually. ... or an amusement park take on being Turkish. There was something odd about it but also somehow boring.

...continue reading

Countries 39 and 40

Published May 31, 2023

In Stansted Airport, past security, sitting on the snaking wooden benches with their broken USB ports, I contemplated not getting on the flight.

My misanthropy reaches such a level sometimes that it is genuinely painful to be anywhere near human beings. To have thousands of them around me can be torture.

I spent most of the dreary night in the coach station waiting area, unlike the packed arrivals hall, the coach station has far less people and some padded chairs. These are the moves of a genius.

Security opened at three something or maybe four, I placed the boarding pass QR code on the scanner and the little glass doors slid open ... 'this again then'

I was back to travelling without any luggage, all I had was my old Canadian ski jacket, stuffed with the essentials: phone charger, a couple of changes of underwear and socks and a more comfortable blue t-shirt, some medicine, tooth brush tooth paste and my passport, the burgandy book, the burgandy book that still has European Union emblazoned in gold across the top.

The only reason I got on the plane was COUNTRY 39 and COUNTRY 40 as well as the photos and videos I planned to take at the colloseum (many of the photos and videos of my first visit to Italy are lost for now)

This trip was full of Really Fucking Annoying Things or RFATs. This trip had a lot of RFATs.

The first bonafide RFAT happened soon after landing in Bologna.

Tired, I wanted to get on the massively overpriced monorail from the airport to the train station and then take the regional train on to Rimini and my hotel bed. As me and a group of Asian-faced people walked towards it a couple of construction workers approached with the Italian language and hand gestures, clearly the stupid thing was closed for one dumb reason or another.

...continue reading

Countries 39 and 40

Published May 31, 2023

In Stansted Airport, past security, sitting on the snaking wooden benches with their broken USB ports, I contemplated not getting on the flight.

My misanthropy reaches such a level sometimes that it is genuinely painful to be anywhere near human beings. To have thousands of them around me can be torture.

I spent most of the dreary night in the coach station waiting area, unlike the packed arrivals hall, the coach station has far less people and some padded chairs. These are the moves of a genius.

Security opened at three something or maybe four, I placed the boarding pass QR code on the scanner and the little glass doors slid open ... 'this again then'

I was back to travelling without any luggage, all I had was my old Canadian ski jacket, stuffed with the essentials: phone charger, a couple of changes of underwear and socks and a more comfortable blue t-shirt, some medicine, tooth brush tooth paste and my passport, the burgandy book, the burgandy book that still has European Union emblazoned in gold across the top.

The only reason I got on the plane was COUNTRY 39 and COUNTRY 40 as well as the photos and videos I planned to take at the colloseum (many of the photos and videos of my first visit to Italy are lost for now)

This trip was full of Really Fucking Annoying Things or RFATs. This trip had a lot of RFATs.

The first bonafide RFAT happened soon after landing in Bologna.

Tired, I wanted to get on the massively overpriced monorail from the airport to the train station and then take the regional train on to Rimini and my hotel bed. As me and a group of Asian-faced people walked towards it a couple of construction workers approached with the Italian language and hand gestures, clearly the stupid thing was closed for one dumb reason or another.

...continue reading

To Vietnam

Published March 14, 2023

The bus was now stopped on the street. I could see it, it was within reach.

I grabbed the straps of my backpack and swallowed the humiliation of running. Every atom of my being was disgusted by the motion.

I got to the bus out of breath and stepped inside the crappy metal can on wheels. My name wasn't on the passenger list, not surprising since I had just booked the ticket before I left the hostel.

There was no argument from the driver or clipboard worker though, which was helpful considering the current state of my lungs. Less than a minute after I put my bag between my legs and got comfortable, the bus sped off. Life's a game of inches and all that…

I transferred to another bus and then another bus and then me and a fellow group of travellers were on our way to the country I had been looking forward to the most on this trip, Vietnam.

I was still thinking about whether to go north from Ho Chi Minh - back to Hanoi and then onwards to Ha Long. The plan for this trip was rough by design, since I threw away my flight to Bangkok and decided to hop up the Malay peninsular from city to city by train, my original outline of the trip had changed, I had been looking for those greatest of iterations.

I was going to see how I felt about Ho Chi Minh. Although it was the first place I visited in Vietnam five years earlier and I really did explore it, for some reason I couldn't remember it as vividly as the other areas of the country.

The girl on the bus took my passport and wrote out all the information. The bus came with a bottle of water and a small, tasty Cambodian croissant. I felt happy, what a way to spend the last day of such an incredible year, on a bus from Phnom Penh to Saigon.

This was the last leg of a wild journey, a race against time -

Vientiane > Bangkok by night train > Plane to Phnom Penh > Bus to Siem Reap > Bus to Phnom Penh > Bus to Vietnam ... all within a few days.

I wanted to get my ninth new country of the year done, my stretched goal from seven, and I wanted to get back to Vietnam for my second 'Nam New Year's in five years.

...continue reading

To Vietnam

Published March 14, 2023

The bus was now stopped on the street. I could see it, it was within reach.

I grabbed the straps of my backpack and swallowed the humiliation of running. Every atom of my being was disgusted by the motion.

I got to the bus out of breath and stepped inside the crappy metal can on wheels. My name wasn't on the passenger list, not surprising since I had just booked the ticket before I left the hostel.

There was no argument from the driver or clipboard worker though, which was helpful considering the current state of my lungs. Less than a minute after I put my bag between my legs and got comfortable, the bus sped off. Life's a game of inches and all that…

I transferred to another bus and then another bus and then me and a fellow group of travellers were on our way to the country I had been looking forward to the most on this trip, Vietnam.

I was still thinking about whether to go north from Ho Chi Minh - back to Hanoi and then onwards to Ha Long. The plan for this trip was rough by design, since I threw away my flight to Bangkok and decided to hop up the Malay peninsular from city to city by train, my original outline of the trip had changed, I had been looking for those greatest of iterations.

I was going to see how I felt about Ho Chi Minh. Although it was the first place I visited in Vietnam five years earlier and I really did explore it, for some reason I couldn't remember it as vividly as the other areas of the country.

The girl on the bus took my passport and wrote out all the information. The bus came with a bottle of water and a small, tasty Cambodian croissant. I felt happy, what a way to spend the last day of such an incredible year, on a bus from Phnom Penh to Saigon.

This was the last leg of a wild journey, a race against time -

Vientiane > Bangkok by night train > Plane to Phnom Penh > Bus to Siem Reap > Bus to Phnom Penh > Bus to Vietnam ... all within a few days.

I wanted to get my ninth new country of the year done, my stretched goal from seven, and I wanted to get back to Vietnam for my second 'Nam New Year's in five years.

...continue reading

The Early March Blog Post Published March 6, 2023

Morning my friends. I'm in England. A great country. My country of birth.

It's gone four in the morning.

I'm writing this instead of doing all the work I wrote down to do today.

Sometimes you need to tell yourself to fuck off.

I'm telling myself to fuck off.

I don't feel like doing it. But, if I don't do it and don't do something else, something productive, meaningful, creative then I'll feel awful. So here I am, at my desk, typing away.

I did a lot of really important technical things too earlier, so I think I'll sleep proud and not sick.

I've been reading about Scientology again lately, and the Falun Gong and other New Religious Movements, a term I don't really like. I've read a lot about these kinds of groups for many years now.

One of the things I love about them is this - operating outside of government control, freedom in a word.

Although none are sovereign or even claim sovereignty (unlike me), they do act like they are sovereign. Scientology for instance basically run a giant global network of torture mansions and very real, very strange prisons. The government doesn't touch them.

The Pope has the Vatican. Li Hongzhi has Dragons Springs in New York. The Mormons own a state. I want a place.

One day I'll have my spot. An island maybe or a mountain or a great ranch.

...continue reading

The Early March Blog Post Published March 6, 2023

Morning my friends. I'm in England. A great country. My country of birth.

It's gone four in the morning.

I'm writing this instead of doing all the work I wrote down to do today.

Sometimes you need to tell yourself to fuck off.

I'm telling myself to fuck off.

I don't feel like doing it. But, if I don't do it and don't do something else, something productive, meaningful, creative then I'll feel awful. So here I am, at my desk, typing away.

I did a lot of really important technical things too earlier, so I think I'll sleep proud and not sick.

I've been reading about Scientology again lately, and the Falun Gong and other New Religious Movements, a term I don't really like. I've read a lot about these kinds of groups for many years now.

One of the things I love about them is this - operating outside of government control, freedom in a word.

Although none are sovereign or even claim sovereignty (unlike me), they do act like they are sovereign. Scientology for instance basically run a giant global network of torture mansions and very real, very strange prisons. The government doesn't touch them.

The Pope has the Vatican. Li Hongzhi has Dragons Springs in New York. The Mormons own a state. I want a place.

One day I'll have my spot. An island maybe or a mountain or a great ranch.

...continue reading

Laos and Cambodia

Published January 10, 2023

I knew a great amount of pain was about to hit me. Pain has a delay to the brain. In that delay I did a lot of analysis and made a lot of decisions.

'I'm hurt.'

'How badly?'

'Bad, not fatal, not critical, but severe.'

'Ready?'

'Yes, I'm ready.'

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

I was melding dimensions. Jumping realities. It hurt.

A lot.

The story of this pain -

I was standing on the bed and stepped over the void to the desk chair.

This is where all the fun stuff happened.

As I placed my right foot on the cushioned chair, the chair legs slipped on the slick floor and away we went. I threw my body forward in the air, sacrificing my leg to save everything else.

...

The wound was deep and it hurt to the bone. It was right on the bone. The tibia was hit. A long, deep slice of flesh had been scraped and stolen away.

In the coming days I would be limping past the prostitutes and other Bangkok street freaks of Sukhumvit.

It wasn't a total disaster, I always made it far enough to get the food and drink I needed to sustain me and even somehow still fucked a girl with one leg offline.

A few days later I packed up, jumped in another 3rd class train carriage and had an uncomfortable ride through the night in a Thai-stuffed train before arriving in Udon Thani the next morning.

In the morning I woke up with that MISSION feeling. I wanted the 'Special Mission' part of this 'An Asia Trip' to begin.

I had two countries left of the nine countries I had planned out for the year -

...continue reading

Laos and Cambodia

Published January 10, 2023

I knew a great amount of pain was about to hit me. Pain has a delay to the brain. In that delay I did a lot of analysis and made a lot of decisions.

'I'm hurt.'

'How badly?'

'Bad, not fatal, not critical, but severe.'

'Ready?'

'Yes, I'm ready.'

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

I was melding dimensions. Jumping realities. It hurt.

A lot.

The story of this pain -

I was standing on the bed and stepped over the void to the desk chair.

This is where all the fun stuff happened.

As I placed my right foot on the cushioned chair, the chair legs slipped on the slick floor and away we went. I threw my body forward in the air, sacrificing my leg to save everything else.

...

The wound was deep and it hurt to the bone. It was right on the bone. The tibia was hit. A long, deep slice of flesh had been scraped and stolen away.

In the coming days I would be limping past the prostitutes and other Bangkok street freaks of Sukhumvit.

It wasn't a total disaster, I always made it far enough to get the food and drink I needed to sustain me and even somehow still fucked a girl with one leg offline.

A few days later I packed up, jumped in another 3rd class train carriage and had an uncomfortable ride through the night in a Thai-stuffed train before arriving in Udon Thani the next morning.

In the morning I woke up with that MISSION feeling. I wanted the 'Special Mission' part of this 'An Asia Trip' to begin.

I had two countries left of the nine countries I had planned out for the year -

...continue reading

An Asia Trip Blog post

Published November 11, 2022

November 8, November 9, November 10 finally November 10. In my hotel room, in Chinatown, in bed, time to sleep. I do sleep, I sleep for 12 hours, and three days of the travel state is washed away.

Surprisingly I wasn't that tired by the end of it all, well tired maybe, but not exhausted, I didn't even have much in the way of heart palpitations. As I lay my head down 12:00 UK time, 20:00 Malaysian time, I fell into dreams, awaking, saying to myself "These are dreams." this repeating itself until one dream took me all the way in, an invitation to that other world.

I woke up 12 hours later fresh and ready. Ready for Malaysia, ready for Asia. It's been a while since I last was here, and for several reasons Malaysia was the last Asian country I left from four and a half years ago, before that global pandemic, before that period of ambulances and hospitalisations, before I stopped nicotine, caffiene, alcohol and every other addicting substance, before so much else happened and so much else changed.

...continue reading

An Asia Trip Blog post

Published November 11, 2022

November 8, November 9, November 10 finally November 10. In my hotel room, in Chinatown, in bed, time to sleep. I do sleep, I sleep for 12 hours, and three days of the travel state is washed away.

Surprisingly I wasn't that tired by the end of it all, well tired maybe, but not exhausted, I didn't even have much in the way of heart palpitations. As I lay my head down 12:00 UK time, 20:00 Malaysian time, I fell into dreams, awaking, saying to myself "These are dreams." this repeating itself until one dream took me all the way in, an invitation to that other world.

I woke up 12 hours later fresh and ready. Ready for Malaysia, ready for Asia. It's been a while since I last was here, and for several reasons Malaysia was the last Asian country I left from four and a half years ago, before that global pandemic, before that period of ambulances and hospitalisations, before I stopped nicotine, caffiene, alcohol and every other addicting substance, before so much else happened and so much else changed.

...continue reading

leBRADburg's Mission

Published November 5, 2022

TO DOMINATE OR DESTROY, NON-FUNGIBLE TOKENS

TO CREATE BURGERS THAT ARE GENUINE MASTERPIECES

TO MAKE HUMANITY BETTER OR WORSE, MAYBE BOTH

TO CREATE DEEPLY STRANGE THINGS

TO REPRESENT BRAD NICHOLLS AND THE BRAD NICHOLLS EXPANSIVE MULTIVERSE

TO BE A DIVINE FLAG-BEARER OF THE EXPANSIVE MIX ERA

...continue reading

leBRADburg's Mission

Published November 5, 2022

TO DOMINATE OR DESTROY, NON-FUNGIBLE TOKENS

TO CREATE BURGERS THAT ARE GENUINE MASTERPIECES

TO MAKE HUMANITY BETTER OR WORSE, MAYBE BOTH

TO CREATE DEEPLY STRANGE THINGS

TO REPRESENT BRAD NICHOLLS AND THE BRAD NICHOLLS EXPANSIVE MULTIVERSE

TO BE A DIVINE FLAG-BEARER OF THE EXPANSIVE MIX ERA

...continue reading

Not A Suicide Note Published September 22, 2022

These words were written a while ago.

I suddenly feel a great sense of sadness and loss. I don't know why. The weather is horrible. It's been hot lately. Too hot. Too hot for England. It's not too hot today, but not cold. It's the questionable heat after a thunderstorm, which happened earlier. I have a tower fan a few feet from my legs and they're being hit with a cool breeze. Too cool. Too cold. I don't like it. But when I turn the fan off I feel hot again. So I'll keep it on.

I am procrastinating. That's why I'm writing this. Better than Netflix, or jerking off. It's something productive. Some work. Some thing. Some thing to add to the list of things I've created in life.

I should be finishing an episode of BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast now. But the episode is horrible. Horrible because I want to finish it, there are some great things about it, but the current edit just isn't it. And, I can't seem to fucking make it work the way I want now.

All of this is annoying, but even more annoying because it has been several days of this.

Some times I get stuck, here I am stuck.

I watched one of the greatest films ever made last night. The Vanishing. It was so beautiful I almost cried. The entire film was almost perfect, there was only a handful of things that I will change, I say will because I am going to edit the thing, I am going to perfect it. It was such a natural film. Special.

I feel very sad. I ate some cheap ice cream before writing this, it was the only sweet food about. Now I have a pain in my neck, on the right. I don't think these things are connected. I'm in the mood to fuck or burn down a police station or marry a tranny in an airless desert, illuminated by giant spotlights. Oh well, I'm sad tonight, I'm sure it will go away.

...continue reading

Not A Suicide Note Published September 22, 2022

These words were written a while ago.

I suddenly feel a great sense of sadness and loss. I don't know why. The weather is horrible. It's been hot lately. Too hot. Too hot for England. It's not too hot today, but not cold. It's the questionable heat after a thunderstorm, which happened earlier. I have a tower fan a few feet from my legs and they're being hit with a cool breeze. Too cool. Too cold. I don't like it. But when I turn the fan off I feel hot again. So I'll keep it on.

I am procrastinating. That's why I'm writing this. Better than Netflix, or jerking off. It's something productive. Some work. Some thing. Some thing to add to the list of things I've created in life.

I should be finishing an episode of BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast now. But the episode is horrible. Horrible because I want to finish it, there are some great things about it, but the current edit just isn't it. And, I can't seem to fucking make it work the way I want now.

All of this is annoying, but even more annoying because it has been several days of this.

Some times I get stuck, here I am stuck.

I watched one of the greatest films ever made last night. The Vanishing. It was so beautiful I almost cried. The entire film was almost perfect, there was only a handful of things that I will change, I say will because I am going to edit the thing, I am going to perfect it. It was such a natural film. Special.

I feel very sad. I ate some cheap ice cream before writing this, it was the only sweet food about. Now I have a pain in my neck, on the right. I don't think these things are connected. I'm in the mood to fuck or burn down a police station or marry a tranny in an airless desert, illuminated by giant spotlights. Oh well, I'm sad tonight, I'm sure it will go away.

...continue reading

Sweden and Finland

Published September 19, 2022

It was an overnighter at the airport. Not the worst ever. But still, an uncomfortable energy draining time. And without nicotine, without caffeine. Long ago, a while ago and recently for these long airport stays I had nicotine, I had caffeine, those two aides to artificially push my body through, I no longer have either, self-imposed and final. I must make it through alone. Oh well. I did it, and all the other painful hours that this trip provided, I did them too.

This trip was both long and short - a couple of days in Sweden and a couple in Finland but the nature of the travel schedule meant I had little sleep and a lot of moving to do. It was made that more difficult by the fact that my feet were cut up and so very sore, new shoes with a terrible mad design responsible for it. By the time I arrived back in England I had multiple, large open wounds on both of my feet.

Let's talk about these countries then. Sweden, I liked. Finland, I liked. Both SEVEN out of TEN countries. With potential to climb higher than that.

In fact - Norway, Sweden, Finland and Estonia, I would rank on a very similar level, with Estonia edging the rest. Maybe one great union could one day form from them, leave Denmark out of it and Latvia and Lithuanina. Nordenfinstonia. Great place, love it.

...continue reading

Sweden and Finland

Published September 19, 2022

It was an overnighter at the airport. Not the worst ever. But still, an uncomfortable energy draining time. And without nicotine, without caffeine. Long ago, a while ago and recently for these long airport stays I had nicotine, I had caffeine, those two aides to artificially push my body through, I no longer have either, self-imposed and final. I must make it through alone. Oh well. I did it, and all the other painful hours that this trip provided, I did them too.

This trip was both long and short - a couple of days in Sweden and a couple in Finland but the nature of the travel schedule meant I had little sleep and a lot of moving to do. It was made that more difficult by the fact that my feet were cut up and so very sore, new shoes with a terrible mad design responsible for it. By the time I arrived back in England I had multiple, large open wounds on both of my feet.

Let's talk about these countries then. Sweden, I liked. Finland, I liked. Both SEVEN out of TEN countries. With potential to climb higher than that.

In fact - Norway, Sweden, Finland and Estonia, I would rank on a very similar level, with Estonia edging the rest. Maybe one great union could one day form from them, leave Denmark out of it and Latvia and Lithuanina. Nordenfinstonia. Great place, love it.

...continue reading

Bacon and Eggs and the 'Queen' is Dead Published September 9, 2022

I spent most of the day in the bath, editing.

I was struggling, the editing was a mix of the creative and the mechanical.

The creative parts were becoming really trying, my head was foggy, I took long breaks to meditate on the placement of a word, the structure of a sentence.

I got out of the bath before six.

I changed my underwear and socks, put on my old shorts - the ones with the hole from when I caught them on a motorbike in a narrow street in Tuy Hòa, Vietnam - and my simple blue t-shirt, the same clothes I had been wearing for days.

I went downstairs to the kitchen to cook bacon and eggs.

And then the 'Queen' was dead.

'Alright, then' I thought, 'Special Day Exception'

Soon after a great rain began to smash against the ground. It had been dreary for days and especially grey and disturbed that day in particular.

...continue reading

Bacon and Eggs and the 'Queen' is Dead Published September 9, 2022

I spent most of the day in the bath, editing.

I was struggling, the editing was a mix of the creative and the mechanical.

The creative parts were becoming really trying, my head was foggy, I took long breaks to meditate on the placement of a word, the structure of a sentence.

I got out of the bath before six.

I changed my underwear and socks, put on my old shorts - the ones with the hole from when I caught them on a motorbike in a narrow street in Tuy Hòa, Vietnam - and my simple blue t-shirt, the same clothes I had been wearing for days.

I went downstairs to the kitchen to cook bacon and eggs.

And then the 'Queen' was dead.

'Alright, then' I thought, 'Special Day Exception'

Soon after a great rain began to smash against the ground. It had been dreary for days and especially grey and disturbed that day in particular.

...continue reading

Bulgaria

Published July 18, 2022

SOFIA, definetly one of the more romantic names for a city.

I had no set expectations for it though, I wasn't expecting Paris but I also wasn't not expecting Paris.

I exited the station to find a dark underworld, I turned left and found a walker, a ghoul, a fucking problem.

I turned right and found a ghostly void.

AHHHHHHHH FUCKING CUNTCUNTCUNT.

On my third take, I found an opening up onto the streets.

As I broke out into the open summer night air of Sofia my eyes focused on the word 'HOTEL' painted in big white block letters on the side of a building across the empty streets. I didn't know if it was my hotel or not, but fuck it, I gave it a try.

HOTEL was my hotel.

I was strangely attracted to the guy at the small reception desk.

Tall and skinny, with a baby face and ruffled boyish hair and what appeared to be a sweet, fragile, feminine soul.

I had none of these thoughts in the moment or even in the days after, it's only now as I sit here at my desk at 4:30 in the morning, in southern England, that I have suddenly realised all of this. I could have actually bent this feminine wisp boi of a thing over and fucked him.

Hmm, cool, nice to know.

...continue reading

Bulgaria

Published July 18, 2022

SOFIA, definetly one of the more romantic names for a city.

I had no set expectations for it though, I wasn't expecting Paris but I also wasn't not expecting Paris.

I exited the station to find a dark underworld, I turned left and found a walker, a ghoul, a fucking problem.

I turned right and found a ghostly void.

AHHHHHHHH FUCKING CUNTCUNTCUNT.

On my third take, I found an opening up onto the streets.

As I broke out into the open summer night air of Sofia my eyes focused on the word 'HOTEL' painted in big white block letters on the side of a building across the empty streets. I didn't know if it was my hotel or not, but fuck it, I gave it a try.

HOTEL was my hotel.

I was strangely attracted to the guy at the small reception desk.

Tall and skinny, with a baby face and ruffled boyish hair and what appeared to be a sweet, fragile, feminine soul.

I had none of these thoughts in the moment or even in the days after, it's only now as I sit here at my desk at 4:30 in the morning, in southern England, that I have suddenly realised all of this. I could have actually bent this feminine wisp boi of a thing over and fucked him.

Hmm, cool, nice to know.

...continue reading

Cyprus

Published June 29, 2022

CYPRUS

Cyprus, the 4th new country of the year.

Package Holidays

This was my first package holiday since I was very young and a holiday with my mum too.

One of the things about these package holidays - they are both extremely long and incredibly short. The time dripped on slowly and yet when it came time to leave I felt as if I had just arrived.

Arriving in Paphos

It was night when we arrived in Paphos. At the 'tourist village' an old worker with a thick Northern accent drove us by golf buggy to our apartment.

"You've got a nice room!" he said, in that hard to pinpoint, general Northern accent, the excitement sounded genuine though as we sped around the narrow streets towards our apartment block, one of 48.

It turned out to be the nicest one in the entire village.

The next morning

The next morning we went out onto the balcony and found the deep blue mediterranean and an impressive panoramic view, on the hillside to the left stood the lighthouse built by the British in the 1880s, well-spaced palms lined the beach.

Some words

Breakfast, Beach, 7 Up Free, Balcony

...continue reading

Cyprus

Published June 29, 2022

CYPRUS

Cyprus, the 4th new country of the year.

Package Holidays

This was my first package holiday since I was very young and a holiday with my mum too.

One of the things about these package holidays - they are both extremely long and incredibly short. The time dripped on slowly and yet when it came time to leave I felt as if I had just arrived.

Arriving in Paphos

It was night when we arrived in Paphos. At the 'tourist village' an old worker with a thick Northern accent drove us by golf buggy to our apartment.

"You've got a nice room!" he said, in that hard to pinpoint, general Northern accent, the excitement sounded genuine though as we sped around the narrow streets towards our apartment block, one of 48.

It turned out to be the nicest one in the entire village.

The next morning

The next morning we went out onto the balcony and found the deep blue mediterranean and an impressive panoramic view, on the hillside to the left stood the lighthouse built by the British in the 1880s, well-spaced palms lined the beach.

Some words

Breakfast, Beach, 7 Up Free, Balcony

...continue reading

lithuania, the bore

Published April 22, 2022

Lithuania was already marked for disapoinment, so I actually wasn't too disapointed about this trip. Estonia was magical, a month later Latvia was Latvia and now here we were, Lithuania, a country I had already proclaimed on BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast would be Number 3, my least favourite Baltic country, because 1. Estonia 2. Latvia 3. Lithuania was the way it should be.

It was.

However.

(And this is where the nation of Lithuania will now forever become an enemy I suppose)

I wasn't expecting such a dramatic drop off.

Estonia GREAT Latvia LATVIA Lithuania OH MY FUCKING FUCK, WHAT A BORE!

Outside my hotel's window - which had a panoramic view of the Vilnius skyline - a small group of workers turned a section of the car park below into what looked like a decently sized mass grave, I watched the progress each day. This would be the most interesting thing Vilnius and Lithuania offered up.

...continue reading

lithuania, the bore

Published March 20, 2022

Lithuania was already marked for disapoinment, so I actually wasn't too disapointed about this trip. Estonia was magical, a month later Latvia was Latvia and now here we were, Lithuania, a country I had already proclaimed on BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast would be Number 3, my least favourite Baltic country, because 1. Estonia 2. Latvia 3. Lithuania was the way it should be.

It was.

However.

(And this is where the nation of Lithuania will now forever become an enemy I suppose)

I wasn't expecting such a dramatic drop off.

Estonia GREAT Latvia LATVIA Lithuania OH MY FUCKING FUCK, WHAT A BORE!

Outside my hotel's window - which had a panoramic view of the Vilnius skyline - a small group of workers turned a section of the car park below into what looked like a decently sized mass grave, I watched the progress each day. This would be the most interesting thing Vilnius and Lithuania offered up.

...continue reading

Latvia

Published March 20, 2022

I was disapointed as I caught my first sight of the ground, 'Ah, no snow then.' I thought as the plane approached the runway.

I wasn't expecting the same SNOW MAGIC I experienced a month earlier in Tallinn, but some would have been nice.

Immigration was an annoyance, as was relaxing in the terminal with militant female security guards patrolling for rule-breakers. This Latvia place was aparently a stickler for rules. I enjoy breaking rules. A fun dynamic was already being set.

I ate some lunch in the terminal and then headed for the bus. As I boarded the thing, the happiest damn bus driver in the world greeted me.

I can't remember exactly what he said, but I do remember he said it all with the zeal of a dof dof is a new word that now exists, I was going to write dog and then something about a dog being happy with some kinda bone or something, but I'm keeping it as dof this motherfuckin' bus driver was a mo'fu'n DOF.

The guy truly loved driving that bus.

When I arrived in my room I was happy to find an extremely Latvian view out the window. I don't know why it was extremely Latvian, it just was. I felt like I was in Latvia and I liked that.

I turned on the television and as usual went straight for the news. . .

CNN Ukraine Russia Invasion Madness

...continue reading

Latvia

Published March 20, 2022

I was disapointed as I caught my first sight of the ground, 'Ah, no snow then.' I thought as the plane approached the runway.

I wasn't expecting the same SNOW MAGIC I experienced a month earlier in Tallinn, but some would have been nice.

Immigration was an annoyance, as was relaxing in the terminal with militant female security guards patrolling for rule-breakers. This Latvia place was aparently a stickler for rules. I enjoy breaking rules. A fun dynamic was already being set.

I ate some lunch in the terminal and then headed for the bus. As I boarded the thing, the happiest damn bus driver in the world greeted me.

I can't remember exactly what he said, but I do remember he said it all with the zeal of a dof dof is a new word that now exists, I was going to write dog and then something about a dog being happy with some kinda bone or something, but I'm keeping it as dof this motherfuckin' bus driver was a mo'fu'n DOF.

The guy truly loved driving that bus.

When I arrived in my room I was happy to find an extremely Latvian view out the window. I don't know why it was extremely Latvian, it just was. I felt like I was in Latvia and I liked that.

I turned on the television and as usual went straight for the news. . .

CNN Ukraine Russia Invasion Madness

...continue reading

Beautiful Esnownia

Published February 23, 2022

The plane dropped below the clouds and into a new world. This world was one beyond the wardrobe, the other side of some wormhole somewhere, a sealed off enchantment of those in the know. Basically, it had a FUCK load of snow.

It had been a long time since I had seen this much snow.

On the ground all the arrivals seemed exhalted by the wonderland outside.

Several english speakers testified to the airport terminal that they had, "Never seen this much snow before in Estonia."

I jumped on the tram and made it to downtown. I kind of wanted to get lost in the snow on the way to my hotel, but once I stepped off the tram the hotel was a very easy find. So I checked in instead, all the while thinking of the snow fun I would be having that night and the next day and the day after that.

I went up to my room and headed straight for the wall of windows at the end of it. I tore the curtains open to a perfect view of Tallinn, snow-consumed Tallinn. I already loved it. I loved Tallinn, I loved Estonia.

By the time I went back outside the sky had blackened and the aesthetic floor of snow had been added to by the lights of buildings and street lights.

I realised that snow actually made me happy. Thinking about it now, certain weather does have that ability. All kinds of extreme weather brings out the child inside. When I'm in the tropics I always have another element of me there, when I'm in the real cold, same thing. Perhaps I just don't like boring weather; in fewer words - I can't wait for some real climate change.

...continue reading

Beautiful Esnownia

Published February 23, 2022

The plane dropped below the clouds and into a new world. This world was one beyond the wardrobe, the other side of some wormhole somewhere, a sealed off enchantment of those in the know. Basically, it had a FUCK load of snow.

It had been a long time since I had seen this much snow.

On the ground all the arrivals seemed exhalted by the wonderland outside.

Several english speakers testified to the airport terminal that they had, "Never seen this much snow before in Estonia."

I jumped on the tram and made it to downtown. I kind of wanted to get lost in the snow on the way to my hotel, but once I stepped off the tram the hotel was a very easy find. So I checked in instead, all the while thinking of the snow fun I would be having that night and the next day and the day after that.

I went up to my room and headed straight for the wall of windows at the end of it. I tore the curtains open to a perfect view of Tallinn, snow-consumed Tallinn. I already loved it. I loved Tallinn, I loved Estonia.

By the time I went back outside the sky had blackened and the aesthetic floor of snow had been added to by the lights of buildings and street lights.

I realised that snow actually made me happy. Thinking about it now, certain weather does have that ability. All kinds of extreme weather brings out the child inside. When I'm in the tropics I always have another element of me there, when I'm in the real cold, same thing. Perhaps I just don't like boring weather; in fewer words - I can't wait for some real climate change.

...continue reading

Walking from Nice to Monaco

Published March 31, 2019

The night before I was still fighting away that enemy of a voice inside that questioned if I could really do it.

I was in no shape to spend five hours in the sun walking twelve miles along a rugged and hilly coastline. I thought about changing the mission…

‘Maybe I could do a hike instead.'

‘Maybe I can just make a vlog in Nice or Monaco.’

I went to bed only 90% sure I would be putting my body through hell the next day.

In the morning I slept another hour after my alarm went off, I woke up and reset it knowing that once it went off again, I would be doing it, I would be walking to Monaco.

...continue reading

Walking from Nice to Monaco

Published March 31, 2019

The night before I was still fighting away that enemy of a voice inside that questioned if I could really do it.

I was in no shape to spend five hours in the sun walking twelve miles along a rugged and hilly coastline. I thought about changing the mission…

‘Maybe I could do a hike instead.'

‘Maybe I can just make a vlog in Nice or Monaco.’

I went to bed only 90% sure I would be putting my body through hell the next day.

In the morning I slept another hour after my alarm went off, I woke up and reset it knowing that once it went off again, I would be doing it, I would be walking to Monaco.

...continue reading

IRELAND

Published December 10, 2021

For some reason the flight to Dublin had a heightened importance.

I don’t know why but I felt it, I spent the entire flight neck twisted to the right, taking in every cloud and all the differences in terrain the plane was shooting past. It was a beautiful and varied flight. Meaningful Entertainment.

I spent my entire time in Dublin Sqwenking around. That’s a new word I’ve just created. Sqwenking.

I knew I had nothing to do in Dublin and that’s exactly what I did.

In all honesty it just looked like a UK city and not one of the more interesting ones. It took only one long walk around to come to that conclusion.

SO I SQWENKED.

...continue reading

IRELAND

Published December 10, 2021

For some reason the flight to Dublin had a heightened importance.

I don’t know why but I felt it, I spent the entire flight neck twisted to the right, taking in every cloud and all the differences in terrain the plane was shooting past. It was a beautiful and varied flight. Meaningful Entertainment.

I spent my entire time in Dublin Sqwenking around. That’s a new word I’ve just created. Sqwenking.

I knew I had nothing to do in Dublin and that’s exactly what I did.

In all honesty it just looked like a UK city and not one of the more interesting ones. It took only one long walk around to come to that conclusion.

SO I SQWENKED.

...continue reading

The Journey Through Northern Malaysia

Published June 30, 2018

It was a change of plans.

We had spent the last few weeks in Bali and now it was time for the second leg of our trip - Vietnam. But I had been turning against the original plan.

Our flight to Hanoi had a layover in Kuala Lumpur and the option of throwing away the Hanoi flight and staying in Malaysia was becoming more and more enticing.

By the time we boarded the plane to Kuala Lumpur, I had decided.

...continue reading

The Journey Through Northern Malaysia

Published June 30, 2018

It was a change of plans.

We had spent the last few weeks in Bali and now it was time for the second leg of our trip - Vietnam. But I had been turning against the original plan.

Our flight to Hanoi had a layover in Kuala Lumpur and the option of throwing away the Hanoi flight and staying in Malaysia was becoming more and more enticing.

By the time we boarded the plane to Kuala Lumpur, I had decided.

...continue reading

Place Nostalgia Disorder Published November 1, 2021

I have PND.

Place Nostalgia Disorder.

It is serious.

It hits me often and without warning.

In the bath. Frying some eggs. Staring off into another dimension.

PND!

F u c k , h e r e w e g o

I begin longing for my bench in Ohori Park in Fukuoka, the one with the turtles swimming up against the concrete lake shore to say hellooo…

I daydream of my old window, open, the heat of Taipei spills into the room. I gaze at the police station and the student accommodation across the street and further off the long row of shops, convenience stores and restaurants… I’m smoking a strong cigarette. My girlfriends still in class. I’m 22 years old.

...continue reading

Place Nostalgia Disorder Published November 1, 2021

I have PND.

Place Nostalgia Disorder.

It is serious.

It hits me often and without warning.

In the bath. Frying some eggs. Staring off into another dimension.

PND!

F u c k , h e r e w e g o

I begin longing for my bench in Ohori Park in Fukuoka, the one with the turtles swimming up against the concrete lake shore to say hellooo…

I daydream of my old window, open, the heat of Taipei spills into the room. I gaze at the police station and the student accommodation across the street and further off the long row of shops, convenience stores and restaurants… I’m smoking a strong cigarette. My girlfriends still in class. I’m 22 years old.

...continue reading

Spain Andorra Norway Three more countries done

Published October 7, 2021

I ate a lot of Burger King in Madrid. And, some very sweet Spanish pastries.

I had some Tinder dates as usual, they went as Tinder dates usually go.

I went around the city and saw some sights.

I liked Madrid but didn’t especially love it, so after a few days I jumped on a high-speed train to Barcelona which I found to be more my kinda city.

It often felt like I was in a separate nation in Catalonia. I can’t see Spain holding onto this part of the world for much longer. I only saw a single Spanish flag.

Since I arrived in Spain I had been searching for the next country on the trip. Covid has made travel such a fucking annoyance in so many ways.

Portugal? Eastern Europe? Ireland? Turkey? Cyprus? Malta? The Baltic states?

Eventually I decided on Andorra and it was one the reasons I had come to Barcelona. To have that option there.

...continue reading

Spain Andorra Norway Three more countries done

Published October 7, 2021

I ate a lot of Burger King in Madrid. And, some very sweet Spanish pastries.

I had some Tinder dates as usual, they went as Tinder dates usually go.

I went around the city and saw some sights.

I liked Madrid but didn’t especially love it, so after a few days I jumped on a high-speed train to Barcelona which I found to be more my kinda city.

It often felt like I was in a separate nation in Catalonia. I can’t see Spain holding onto this part of the world for much longer. I only saw a single Spanish flag.

Since I arrived in Spain I had been searching for the next country on the trip. Covid has made travel such a fucking annoyance in so many ways.

Portugal? Eastern Europe? Ireland? Turkey? Cyprus? Malta? The Baltic states?

Eventually I decided on Andorra and it was one the reasons I had come to Barcelona. To have that option there.

...continue reading

On a Metro train in Madrid Published September 29, 2021

I'm on a Metro train in Madrid right now - (well I was when I wrote this) - I smell like sweat. I think a few other people have noticed.

I used to feel self-conscious about the smells my human body could produce. I don't anymore.

'Enjoy it!' I scream to the carriage.

...continue reading

On a Metro train in Madrid Published September 29, 2021

I'm on a Metro train in Madrid right now - (well I was when I wrote this) - I smell like sweat. I think a few other people have noticed.

I used to feel self-conscious about the smells my human body could produce. I don't anymore.

'Enjoy it!' I scream to the carriage.

...continue reading

Fall Published September 25, 2021

Masturbating over my favorite season.

(This is going to be weird)

Fall.

It’s my favourite season and for a reason.

Or maybe reasons.

Winter is just behind, ya'know.

Then Summer.

Then finally Spring. FUCK SPRING. Or not, I don’t care.

...continue reading

Fall Published September 25, 2021

Masturbating over my favorite season.

(This is going to be weird)

Fall.

It’s my favourite season and for a reason.

Or maybe reasons.

Winter is just behind, ya'know.

Then Summer.

Then finally Spring. FUCK SPRING. Or not, I don’t care.

...continue reading

One Year Nicotine and Caffeine and Alcohol Free Published September 2, 2021

The title says most of it.

But I will ramble on for here for several decades anyway.

I did it. I didn’t have any of the bad stuff for a whole year. For fuck’s sake, I went around the damn sun and didn’t give in. But, to be completely honest, I never felt much temptation.

It’s odd. I smoked and/or vaped for thirteen long years and then it was so easy just to stop. The caffeine was just as easy and the alcohol was the easiest, I’ve never been a constant drinker, but I was a binge drinker.

All of this has coincided with many more health related changes for the better.

...continue reading

One Year Nicotine and Caffeine and Alcohol Free Published September 2, 2021

The title says most of it.

But I will ramble on for here for several decades anyway.

I did it. I didn’t have any of the bad stuff for a whole year. For fuck’s sake, I went around the damn sun and didn’t give in. But, to be completely honest, I never felt much temptation.

It’s odd. I smoked and/or vaped for thirteen long years and then it was so easy just to stop. The caffeine was just as easy and the alcohol was the easiest, I’ve never been a constant drinker, but I was a binge drinker.

All of this has coincided with many more health related changes for the better.

...continue reading

The Streets of Fukuoka - MEGA: A Three Year Journey FREE Chapter

Published August 30, 2021

This is a free chapter from my memoir - MEGA: A Three Year Journey

…lucky you.

Purchase the book here

.

The room was light but the light felt far away, my tatami mat tucked into the wall had stolen some darkness from the light in the room.

I adjusted to the artificial lighting, sat up and looked across the dorm. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and focused on the window. The night sky outside was slowly turning a deep shade of blue, it took a moment to realise its significance.

I had slept for most of the journey across the Korea Strait and with the morning sun about to rise I would soon be on Japanese soil.

Despite the deep sleep I had fallen into, I woke groggy with my head muddled. It was as if my brain couldn't accept that I had actually been able to sleep on an overnight ferry in a room full of people.

I stood up and left the dorm for a morning cigarette.

I was hungry, finding myself in the same situation as the night before, only having Won and not the yen the vending machines and restaurant on the boat liked. I would have to wait for breakfast.

I smoked most of my pack of cigarettes in place of a proper meal and readied myself for at most an hour of bullshit before I could eat and sleep.

...continue reading

The Streets of Fukuoka - MEGA: A Three Year Journey FREE Chapter

Published August 30, 2021

This is a free chapter from my memoir - MEGA: A Three Year Journey

…lucky you.

Purchase the book here

.

The room was light but the light felt far away, my tatami mat tucked into the wall had stolen some darkness from the light in the room.

I adjusted to the artificial lighting, sat up and looked across the dorm. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and focused on the window. The night sky outside was slowly turning a deep shade of blue, it took a moment to realise its significance.

I had slept for most of the journey across the Korea Strait and with the morning sun about to rise I would soon be on Japanese soil.

Despite the deep sleep I had fallen into, I woke groggy with my head muddled. It was as if my brain couldn't accept that I had actually been able to sleep on an overnight ferry in a room full of people.

I stood up and left the dorm for a morning cigarette.

I was hungry, finding myself in the same situation as the night before, only having Won and not the yen the vending machines and restaurant on the boat liked. I would have to wait for breakfast.

I smoked most of my pack of cigarettes in place of a proper meal and readied myself for at most an hour of bullshit before I could eat and sleep.

...continue reading

Airport Flirt A 60 Minute Airport Romance in Kuala Lumpur Published August 24, 2021

A 60 Minute Airport Romance in Kuala Lumpur

This is a story that will most likely feature in my next memoir. If you would like to read stories from my first memoir then you should buy it here -

MEGA: A Three Year Journey

.

I wasn’t walking anywhere in particular. Just making circles and figure-eights of the large terminal.

I had just said goodbye to my Vietnamese “Girlfriend”

I knew we were going to break up. There wouldn’t be another long trip with her. This had been our second. The first was a month-long enjoyable and eventful journey across Vietnam south to north. This trip, we spent a few weeks in Bali and a few across Malaysia. But it would be all over soon.

The way of the world. Just as one romance was dying another would spark into life.

She appeared out of thin-air, eyes down to the ground then back up gazing into my eyes, lips curled slightly, an eyebrow raised.

It was if she had been practicing the move in the mirror all morning.

All of the air was sucked out of the universe.

The thousands of wandering travellers looked in my direction.

Arms up, screaming “GO GET HER!”

Well, probably not.

I stood there, body stunned, mind turning at furious speed.

...continue reading

Airport Flirt A 60 Minute Airport Romance in Kuala Lumpur Published August 24, 2021

A 60 Minute Airport Romance in Kuala Lumpur

This is a story that will most likely feature in my next memoir. If you would like to read stories from my first memoir then you should buy it here -

MEGA: A Three Year Journey

.

I wasn’t walking anywhere in particular. Just making circles and figure-eights of the large terminal.

I had just said goodbye to my Vietnamese “Girlfriend”

I knew we were going to break up. There wouldn’t be another long trip with her. This had been our second. The first was a month-long enjoyable and eventful journey across Vietnam south to north. This trip, we spent a few weeks in Bali and a few across Malaysia. But it would be all over soon.

The way of the world. Just as one romance was dying another would spark into life.

She appeared out of thin-air, eyes down to the ground then back up gazing into my eyes, lips curled slightly, an eyebrow raised.

It was if she had been practicing the move in the mirror all morning.

All of the air was sucked out of the universe.

The thousands of wandering travellers looked in my direction.

Arms up, screaming “GO GET HER!”

Well, probably not.

I stood there, body stunned, mind turning at furious speed.

...continue reading

what i like hehehe... Published July 9, 2021

hehehe...

i like sitting down and punching the keys with my fingers.

powerful punches. ten at a time sometimes.

punch. punch. punch.

i like the word cunt. so i will put it here, completely unrelated to anything else.

punch. punch. punch.

japan is a nice place. i’ve been twice. got run over by a man on a bicycle in shinjuku. lived in net cafes. fucked some women. got too drunk. got lost. ate a lot of curry. i like curry.

wood is nice too. i like wood.

i like cunt japan curry wood.

i like cunts and i like japans and i like curry and i like woods.

cuntjapancurrywood.

i’m going to build a giant cunt in japan, full of curry and made of wood.

...continue reading

what i like hehehe... Published July 9, 2021

hehehe...

i like sitting down and punching the keys with my fingers.

powerful punches. ten at a time sometimes.

punch. punch. punch.

i like the word cunt. so i will put it here, completely unrelated to anything else.

punch. punch. punch.

japan is a nice place. i’ve been twice. got run over by a man on a bicycle in shinjuku. lived in net cafes. fucked some women. got too drunk. got lost. ate a lot of curry. i like curry.

wood is nice too. i like wood.

i like cunt japan curry wood.

i like cunts and i like japans and i like curry and i like woods.

cuntjapancurrywood.

i’m going to build a giant cunt in japan, full of curry and made of wood.

...continue reading

© Brad Nicholls