be warned, this post contains some explicit content and has very little to do with Vietnam

I want to WRITE something, god damn it. Why is there so much boring shit out there to read? Why do I think I can contribute anything better? Why do I keep looking for ways to rip off authors I like!? It seems like if I have something of value that I have to say I should be able to just say it. It’s not working out that way.

I’m sitting alone in a hotel room in Nha Trang, Vietnam in my underwear, drinking wine and trying to figure out what makes me think I want to write. I was okay with this situation, very content even, until I really got down to the business of writing something I wanted to write. Then I realized that every written thing I produce is either too close to some standard format I must have (miraculously) absorbed in the few decent journalism classes I took, or it’s a haphazard rant like this. But at this moment in time it looks like THIS is what I’ve got. I’d rather go ahead and let you know I’m in a hotel room in my underwear than let you read the standard style stories I’ve been starting and not finishing. what I want to produce is something NEW that’s actually creative and interesting

and WHO the fuck am I to invent a new style of writing

(a 24 year old wanderer-a self deprecating one, at that-with nothing at all to show for my writing but a few boring articles in a portfolio I was required to put together)

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think people generally like my writing because I lay it all out there. I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m a bad liar in real life and in writing. It’s probably better for me in writing than in real life. Not necessarily in this case, because I’m pretty sure this is too far inside my head and therefore too extreme. But usually.

I suppose if you are reading this, you are probably expecting an account of my travels. That is what a travel blog is supposed to be, right? Well, that’s exactly why I didn’t want to start one in the first place. Because I knew I would let you down. All the 3 or so people who read this.

I do actually write in my journal everything I do every day of traveling, because I know a) I’m not going to remember all of this stuff, and b) I actually will want to know it sometime. But here I will throw you measly dogs a couple of carrots from the dinner table, because I don’t even like carrots. And if you find that you would rather be tossed a scrap of meat (or tofu) instead, sorry little puppies, but you will have to wait a bit or go to another table. Or go hunting or something.

From Thursday, January 21—I am having the best day! That relies completely on the fact that I’m laying on the beach right now. I forgot for a second how fucking much I like going to the beach. It is awesome here [this is in Hoi An] too, there are these awesome mountains in the distance with clouds topping them, it’s really beautiful. I got in the water too and it’s a good temperature with good sized waves. Ah. I love it. I biked out here once, when it was totally cloudy outside, so I get[tenses are clearly not my strong point] to the beach and it’s beautiful and sunny but I didn’t have my bathing suit with me, so I went all the way back to the hostel, which was like 20 minutes of biking fast, then I was forced to change rooms to one on the 4th floor. Then I finally got my bathing suit on and hoofed it here…
And it goes on. But that is enough, I think.

I really like you scavenging dogs under the table, if you are still anywhere around. But god, carrots are gross.