An Excerpt from a Wanderer

Pembrokeshire (Milford Haven I guess) was really cool, after I finished my two hour walk to the bunkhouse. I got one bunkhouse to myself, which had eight beds, a sitting room, a TV (didn’t work), WiFi (also didn’t work), and a full kitchen (couldn’t get the stove to light). I had to get creative with dinner by just using hot water from the sink for my noodles, but hey, whatever works.

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The next day I walked about 14km of the ~300km coastal path. The first part was a bit of a struggle; I had to walk on the side of a narrow, main road for a bit, where I was just glad to not be hit by a car, but then I got to the main path (after stepping in the bushes to use nature’s facilities and experiencing hives for the first time). Walking through the wooded section, I was reminded of my childhood; the woods and damp smell reminded me of Deer Lake. I had to walk through some fields with the sheep, and then the path went along the cliffs.

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Because everyone has to take a cliff selfie

The views were beautiful, even if it was overcast. Typical UK. I think I walked for five hours total? Maybe more? There’s not much to say other than that the views there are stunning. And Wales is full of hills. No mountains, just hills. On the way back I ended up plotting out the rest of my “Whiskey” short story, and the walk itself helped to clear my head, get away from technology, and just breathe for a bit.

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Yesterday I had to wake up at 4am (!) and walk two hours (!!) with my bags back to the bus, and ended up at the wrong place but caught the bus anyway. I almost successfully avoided drunkies on the walk to the bus, except for one. The guy was definitely on something. He kept pacing and crossing the street. He crossed the street to me and caught up to me and asked where I was going.

“Why are you up so early?”
“Gotta catch the bus.”
“Oh.”
Fifteen seconds later.
“Where are you headed?”
“To the bus.”
“Oh.”
Five seconds.
“Do you want me to walk with you?”
“Nope I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, pretty sure.”

And then a taxi pulled up and the driver told the guy to get in. Weird.

Backtrack to thirty minutes earlier: Everything in the area was farmland, except for a housing complex had been built recently with 2, 3, and 4 bedroom houses. Talk about out of place. It felt like Big Fish or something else bizarre like that.

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At least 4am provides you with nice pictures

I Hope This Works Out, No Hetero of Course

March 4th, 2017. I finally submitted my play that was performed at Wheaton’s New Plays festival…exactly two years and three days ago. It’s fine. We’ll pretend like it didn’t take me this long to submit it to be produced.

Anyway, to celebrate, I will share with you all my favorite scene (well, half of a scene) from No Hetero (formerly known as Can-Swiss). For those of you who are not familiar with the play, it is set in a topsy-turvy world where being gay is the norm, and being straight is unheard of. With that said…

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Whiskey Excerpt

December 1945

It had been three months since Pop had returned from the war. The lines around his eyes grew with each year he spent on the front. He cheeks were hollowed, and his temper was shorter than the time it took to drop the bomb on Nagasaki. Pictures of the Japanese city were strewn about the desk. Pop took the pictures after his helicopter landed – his was the first to do so after the bomb. He stood at his desk, staring at them as Ma cooked him up the nice dinner she promised. One picture was shifted a tad; the desk was a shade darker where the picture used to be. He narrowed his eyes. There wasn’t a living being in a single picture. The trees were stripped of their leaves. Buildings were crumbled to the ground. Windowpanes were shattered and cars were left abandoned. Were they real? Or were they something from a horror film? Pop figured there wasn’t much difference.

Ma was finishing up in the kitchen. She had decided she would make him a nice Spam dinner – Pop ate it often in the war, so she thought he would enjoy having it again after a few months. She pulled out two China plates from the glass cabinet, sliced out the Spam, and plopped two slices onto each plate alongside some almost-smooth mashed potatoes and creamed corn.

“Dear, dinner is all set!” Ma called out.

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