False Starts (on Past, Future, and Now)

The Neon Boneyard in Las Vegas

Fifty-four post drafts currently sit in my Writing Through the Fog dashboard — an intro here, a paragraph there. Untouched, some since the 2011. I know myself. I won’t finish any of them. Instead of letting them rot in unpublished limbo, I’ve lifted each draft — each false start — and pasted them below, one by one. Perhaps together, these fragments might create something.

Scenes from Vietnam

Woman

I returned to Hanoi and Halong Bay, both in the north of Vietnam. As you linger in Hanoi, you become one with it — the pulse of the street, the ebb and flow of traffic.

Boardwalk

Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, California.

Lines

Clockwise, starting from top left: Las Vegas Springs Preserve, Nevada; Shoreditch in London, England; Pismo Beach Pier, California; and the Madrid International Airport, Spain.

Notes & Images from England, Ireland, and Sweden

An alleyway in Stockholm.

August was a busy month — weddings, time with family and friends, and exploring cities we’ve never been.

Paths, Possibilities, and NYC

coney island

Such different life paths
From each other, and from mine
Yet New York City is like glue
Where these intersections materialize

Fragments on Time: Found Poetry in My Dashboard

detritus

I have nearly 50 drafts in my blog’s dashboard — waiting, forgotten, abandoned.

Instagram Has Ruined Me

Alhambra, Granada

Then I opened Instagram, ran a filter over it, and posted it — to send it off into the world to be liked and viewed for its moment of glory, and to shortly after join the stream of other Instagrams disappearing into our Internet wasteland.

The UK, Instagrammed

View from my bedroom. Brahan Estate, Scotland.

I present to you my past month’s adventures in England and Scotland, via iPhone 4. With the exception of a handful of shots, most of these are Instagrammed.

Home, Instagrammed: San Francisco Through an iPhone Lens

Golden Gate

Yes, I write about not knowing where or what home is.

That something is missing, that here isn’t quite right.

Then I walk around. I explore where I live.

And I’m reminded that things, truly, are fine.