Me and Me Alone
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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.
There was a convergence at the picnic table.
The feeling I had in New York was like finding lost treasure.
I was happy but felt sad.
I had a dual NEED, to run deeper into it, to stay and live it longer NOW. And another to return to England - to my desk, my bathtub - and into a state of OBSESSIVE WORK.
Trump won the presidency again and the world's richest man was sitting right there with him.
I've always had mixed things to say about both. Probably a nicer assessment of Trump than Musk.
However, I don't deny fact. They are the two defining individuals of this era. And I want to beat them. I need to beat them. Not specifically them as individuals, but whoever the hell it would have been. That is the nature of who I really am. An insanely, absolutely fucking incredibly ambitious person. It comes from me and me alone. It is me.
But I have these stupid issues.
And I have these stupid ways. Mixed in with the brilliance. I stand in my way and block myself from the very success I crave.
And I count countries and each time I add a new one I feel like an addict given relief. I need my work - the art, the character, the world, to be given what they deserve. A spotlight. A big spotlight, and eventually the biggest.
I need the relief of that drug now.
I'm sick of building one half without the other.
It's an empire, without a people.
I want my words to be in the ears of this city, of this country, I want to be a big part of who they are. Of who the world is.
Happy, joyful narcissist. I will be that way again. Happy, joyful.
It's a war. And a war I will ultimately win.
Back in my kitchen.
Some thing with the shape of anxiety or fear or worry quietly rose and spoke to me. I replied calmly.
“I'll figure it out.”
I smiled at that. Because the conviction felt earnt.
The conviction is earnt.
And as of writing this I've figured it out.
I figured it out days ago.
So what should I do with this last inhabited continent of mine? How can it slip into my heart?
South America.
I don't want a quick run through. I have to rid myself of the ‘get it done fast and leave’ mentality, for a while anyway.
‘get it done’ yes
‘fast and leave’ no
It's a continent. A beautiful thing. It deserves its chance.
I need to be excited. I need to want to do it.
I have it now.
And here it is.
I will fly to Columbia and I will stay in Columbia
and Columbia only for over a month. Giving it plenty of chance to seduce me.
Some of the old slow travel that I've missed.
...
And after Columbia I'll head to Washington DC for Donald Trump's Inauguration.
To see a fellow insane fuck, begin the end of his insane story.
Ultimately Barack Obama wasted his mountains of potential. In, little, small, quick, shit. Out and hide. Protect my legacy my beautiful perfect legacy.
Your legacy is dead and gone. Obama? HAH! Leafing through the pages of American history…
Children and Kings and Robots will scream . . .
“Get to Trump, get to Trump!!”
With this campaign and its successful end he has gone from an aberration, a silly freak of history to one of its most interesting players. He'll be remembered for far longer than the play-it-safe Presidents like Obama.
I can't put on the hat and jump up and down. I'll never do that shit. I can't give my support to any other human being. But I can appreciate in others what I know in myself.
So I'll go see it. And I'll appreciate Trump for what he is. An Obsessive Motherfucker With The Obsessive Need To Fucking Win No Matter What.
Well Done. Fun Stuff.
This post won't be clear to all. It's clear to me. I know what these words mean and how they connect and form.
___
I have all the countries planned up to over 100! OVER COUNTRY ONE HUNDRED!
But why ruin the romance, ey!!
I'll keep you guessing. And listening. And reading. And watching.
LET'S FUCKING GO!
Love you.