The plan, for the moment, is to transition By the Soles of My Feet into a personal journal chronicling upcoming travels. Don’t be fooled, this isn’t going to turn into a travel blog, those have been overdone, and offer a very simple interactive experience with the world. Instead, By the Soles of My Feet will attempt to tackle philosophical questions of a varied nature, seeking greater truths and insight that only new perspectives, inspired by new experiences, offer.
As soon as the multitude of realities are realized, and the moon aligns just so, I should be leaving the Central Coast of California for an extended trip around the good ol’ USA by motorcycle. This could very well be a pipe dream, as finances tend to play the spoiler, and in this case they have the potential to fill their traditional role, so please be patient as the details are ironed out.
The day began with all the jittery gusto of an over caffeinated, relocated expat hoping to sit down and actually accomplish something. The list of “to does” and
Where The Magic Happens
“what I hope to accomplish today” was long, intimidatingly so, but the caffeine buzz was in full effect and the day still young. The bed room, where the magic happens, or more accurately where I hope it will happen (soon), was the first to receive the treatment: new sheets, new pillow case, and a general tidying up. This was done with the utmost of sincerity, as the woman of my dreams is going to approach me the on beach any day now; walking ever so slightly on her toes, giving her goods just that right amount of shake, that classy shake, promise an erotic liaison, and then complement my love-making skills profusely while preparing a tasty bowl of Cinnamon Toasters (that’s generic for Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and that shit is expensive). That was two off the list already, and it wasn’t even 9am. Clean bedroom, dream big. Check and check. Continue reading →