There is something to be said about a nervous waiter. Though what that might be eludes me at the present moment, as he – a young man, above 6ft, with a slight stutter in his step and exhaustion in his eyes – towers over my shoulder. In his mind, I am sure
Charleston International Airport – that's where I sit. I have always thought it was a beautiful place, and, to be frank, a quiet place – even if the unofficial acronym has always rubbed me the wrong way: CIA. Even so, the palm trees and the consistent lack of honking despite
The sun is beginning to set, though this far north... that doesn't mean much. I have at least 4 hours of light remaining, and as such, I am going to push onwards to the Arctic, so long as I can make out the next few inches of road
"It will be about 7-10 business days before the part comes in," says the man, early 30s, assisting me. I stare at him for a moment - “7-10 business days?” I have a business to run — a letter to write! I reckon he doesn't quite
There is a gray cat, with one lazy eye and both covered in cataracts, on the dining room table. It is not my cat, or my dining room, or my table: I have been married now for just over one month, and we are housesitting in Charleston. Grace objects – "
5 years ago, my brother killed himself. He took a rifle from under his bed, chambered a round, and pointed the barrel at his head. 5 years ago, was the first time I was ever forced to see that image in my head. Since then, it’s become routine. Laying
There's a book that has contagious spread around surfing circles – including my own – for the past 10 years. Barbarian Days is a memoir written by William Finnegan, which documents practically his entire life, through a sort of vessel of boardsport. A few years ago, before I set off
And I think he's right. In my [last letter] I talked about the struggles I have faced the last 2 years: Chasing performance, chasing fulfillment in approval, and generally ... chasing "ego hits." I thought a shared a pretty compelling story with you. And so did my
Something I've noticed recently is that the majority of road signs here in New Zealand are 'Give Way' signs — or what we, in the States, call a 'Yield.' Meaning, you do not have the right of way. That which is in flow, continues. And
Far Out — a dispatch every Wednesday. Free, and it stays free.
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