Accepting Eternal Self-Letdowns

So I’m sitting here again, in YVR, back waiting to fly away on the last flight of the day. Be a bit gone again. COVID is over, or over enough to finally allow leaving. The me I am when away from everything seems pretty very unknown now, I’m so eager to go again.

I write what I write here not because I enjoy it, not because I’m good at it, not to show it to anyone really, but because if I don’t I really will forget. A travel day that isn’t reflected here, eventually, just didn’t happen, it’s erased. I’m digging into old pictures and drafts of posts from before the shutdown and I see how many balls I’ve dropped, how many days of travel from 2018 and 2019 I just never ended up writing.

Days and nights in New York, long talks, cocktails and roadside sobriety checks with Jeff in Portland, a week up the Sunshine Coast. I meant to write it down, I swear. So many events, I wish I could dig back through my brain and my notes and finally get them documented but come on, it’s not going to happen.

So if this is going to happen it has to happen now.

Here we go.

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