Tripping Abroad, Ambien

For me, this is new. It is my first blog, my platform debut.  A brave and trembling step into the light.  With it I hope to make a salty stew of personal reflection, documentation and art projects.  It should be fairly unedited and raw, more of an online composite/compost of my life in Addis Ababa than anything else.  Friends, family, some longing future-self, welcome.  If I’m to be a regular contributor here, I musn’t fret good writing or work, so expect little.  The first step is taken.  Watch me scamper away.

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Last week was a rewarding blend of old passings and new comings.  I said goodbye to everybody in Seattle and America and caught up with them some too.  Memorable moments include the block party, where I re-proved my briefly embarrassed muffin-man routine, gave past and future rememberings to the strange new building next to my parent’s house and met kexp’s Derek Mizoni, who offered to hook me up with some band in Addis.  Nan’s impromptu company there was also greatly appreciated.  It was a treat seeing and talking with everyone.  Also, for what may be the first time, my family’s Lapush-ing really rejuvenated me.  It was short and sweet and somehow encompassed the best parts from outings past, as did well-wishing from and with beloved friends.  Returning from the beach, I danced and jangled in a farewell-hitting-of-clubs at Neighbors with the Slanderites.  On Friday, a flock of Chartiers flew over for a very warm send off.   I feel many times reborn—crawling through and out of the warm inner chambers of my collective families and homes, and emerging afresh.  It was official around 11:30 am on 8/17/13 when I said farewell to a pair of ardently adoring parents at the security check-in at Seatac.  Damnit, I’m spoiled with love. 

I remember seeing a show at ACT back in like 2008 called The Ugly American by Mike Daisy.   Daisy told me that every culture has a coming of age ceremony, and that middle class America is no exception.  The threshold of our adulthood lies far away.  Anywhere far away.  Preferably poor and brown, nevermind those folks down the street.  Because once you’ve been somewhere really poor and really brown, you have experienced real, raw, meaningfulness.  And from this towering vantage point you can say things like, yeah I’ve really seen the shit. Or, I’ve seen real babies covered in shit dying at my feet.  Or, my shitty dead baby jokes are from my own shitty personal experience.  Or, when I look at you I just see a big healthy, not-dying shitless baby.  You know so little about anything you big shitless baby.  You don’t know shit.  This is what I hope to cultivate in myself.   I deep and abiding appreciation for real shit. 

But, why am I doing this?  Pheonix told me to write a mission statement for my time here.  This will be an initial stab. 

Naively, I want to go to get away. Somehow I’ve maintained a stupid belief in the art of disappearing.  Getting away from dusty corner U.S.A. is a goal that’s endured since at least 5^th grade when I yearned for a life of globetrotting journalism.  Why Ethiopia?  There is an allure of the exotic other which colors most of the world.  But also a host of personal connections, such as dad’s trip, folks I’ve known, a cuisine hankering and an interest in the history.  It’s a challenge.  It demands a lot to be tested within me.  It asks me to grow into the role of co-worker, teacher and leader.  But this is the trip as it stands.  But what do I want out of it?    

Long term... I want insight into myself.  I want to isolate whatever prevents me from connecting with others, and overcome it.  I want an opportunity to be other oriented, to commit myself.  I want to grow through this commitment.   I want to work on taking risks of showing affection.  I want to deepen my capacity to love myself and everyone else.  (I’ll just leave this here.)

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Below is the haunted writings from an unsuccessful dosage of Ambien on my flight to Frankfurt.  I took the drug after a yawn, but then felt a rush of energy that merged with the chemicals into a nightmarish wakefulness.  From beginning to end I’ve calculated these short scribbles having took about three hours. Whatever words seem legible was the fruit of my telescoped and paranoid focus.

Dear reader, I am  have a purpose t odecied my puurp9oose!that will write AGAini am writing throuhfg the trviaoitises of /////////////////////wow that machine justw orjk……e                    repose just a reprsethe hanf of the woman BESIDE Em===me look like more likre s little puuppett/I princedss ]

,pmoments agao I thoighyt I was in the mooddle of hot wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwcaudren   lots of strange sounds and feelingas stone crevasses to my sdidesimpossible to say                                                                                                                                                        

Everymovrmrnt around mr has quick rebuttleswhy sh0oulnt I read you work and the dispeeaar. 

Everty shape arounf my poookds like  Fce to lear smear and ugerreeeear,            I forgot thr orders of prople on a plane.  2mbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooofweelllldedump    \Jus t one last thought ;ott;e wprdiies… just stay togetrthreeehrthertehrethre. Uyouu safer togrthethehthter