O' Muse.

Nearly two months. A bunch of countries, hundreds of people. Thousands of stories.

One Iz.

There is something that people never really put to words, about travel. An element that seems to only come after a couple of months abroad, surrounded by completely alien cultures, (even same language ones).

When you are out there, something happens. You sort of... let go of familiarity. It stops mattering, finding some access point, or position to view and understand the things you see and experience. You start to just accept EVERYTHING as it happens, everyone as they are, and your awareness becomes absolute. I think if you are doing it right, you should lose all basis for judgment. Not that you STOP judging, that is of course, the human condition. No. I mean that you no longer have a personal 'platform' to perform it from.

It's a loss of identity. Nationalistic, fanatic, or personal. It's a reaffirmation of the whole. Seriously cool shit.

The interesting bit really came, when I was doused in the 'familiar'. When I came back, and saw the long stretch of the 405. Passed buildings and colors and lighting that I knew so well. The Getty, the mountains, the Valley. I looked on all of this, with that same acceptance of the alien. And I saw it from a whole new perspective.

When you stumble into a new city, or new place, you find it fascinating. But the people that live there, they are so used to it, that the charm is all gone. I got to see Los Angeles with those virgin eyes, and it was AMAZING. I live in a beautiful city, that has an odd reputation. One that totally tarnishes the bare reality of it.

Then it dawned on me. There is NO place that isn't beautiful. I've been through alleyways with dog corpses. Wandered streets peppered with human feces. Seen vast collections of neon signs and pornography to suit every taste (I even found some that appealed to me! (don't ask...)). I'd seen amazing waterfalls, crystaline rivers. Vast empty beaches. And I realized. They are all the same, in a brilliant way. Beauty has nothing to do with the environment, or person, or action itself. Only the willing acceptance of the perceiver. All it requires is the removal of that judgment, that little mental story you give a person or place. I had to stop trying to figure out, dissect, interpret. All it took was shutting up and letting the place be what it is naturally. Beautiful.

I've been entranced by ridiculous things lately. The light coming through my stack of unwritten dvds. The bare branches on the trees. The sound of my computer thinking hard about something. The smell of a girl's hair that just walked past. The very minor movements of the blinds, like plastic anemone. The twitches in myself. The odd aches of emotion. That odd combination of loneliness and unity...

Man that is so GAY.

Now that all that dry awkwardness is done.

I've been back a week and a half. Already falling back into routine. Work at the office, work at home. Be online too much. Sleep. Recycle.

I have ONE new development, though. For the first time in my life I am now living alone. It's an interesting thing. I've always had roommates, or friends or family. I've pretty much led a communal lifestyle, in terms of housing, for my entire life. This of course was broken on those short occasions that I was homeless and on my own, instead of homeless with fam.

Rent has doubled, and I now have to pay all the utilities on me onesies. This is not impossible, just an irritating step up in responsibilities, and accountability.

The major good thing that all of this brings, is that I now have space to do more traditional paintings. I've been sketching, and already have a few paintings in mind. I'm about forty percent into my first acrylic in ages. I figured I'd start off with the tried and true, and an amputee is on her way. And of course, the other good thing is, entertaining guests is WAY easier. My bedroom is now just a bedroom, or fuck palace, if you will. No longer office, studio, living room, AND fuck palace. Although, it had very amusing pornographic upsides, but... I prefer the extra space.

Anyway. For those of you that have actually followed the Iziad, it is up to you to pass on the tale. If you don't, do not fret. There will be sequels. I am certain of it. For the travelling bug is buried it's mandibles in my flesh, and is currently wending it's way down to my guts to lay a happy litter of eggs. LOL. I guess I will be a daddy after all!

Thanks for listening. And stay tuned!
Things are slowly coming together...

Sincerely,
Your monstrous uncle Z