The Mag is on the road for the Holy Days.
It is being done fastidiously, frugally and consciously… for the sanctity of the gypsy spirit behind the Glyph & the Globalboho concept.
Bottom lines made it a pragmatic choice.
I’d thought 2020 was my year to retire from this particular rodeo, fall in love, get knocked up and be figure-foured into putting down roots as I published all of Grievechronic’s books. Or At least to join a more landlocked team of creatives to bring some normalcy to my flow.
Outside of that intent at the end of 2019…THIS would be the time of year that the artist I am known as would be frugally base-camped in a village, on a mountain or island somewhere on an artist residency /writing retreat or working seasonally in the hospitality industry to stay in the gap while filling the gaps that can be par for the course as an emerging artist. The brunt of my art geist operates like this anyway. A twinkling twelve years deep [AOLAB/GLOBALBOHO GEIST 4 LIFE!lol].
But Nine + months of Covid has comically killed the sustainable opportunities those avenues offer an itinerant artist like myself.
So instead, my retreat and annual Holy Days restoration dance is going mobile under new, familiar yet more nuanced, just shy of solemnly sweet parameters.
Honestly? I am humbly faring better than many other journeyman artists I know by the grace of God.
& the happenstance of soldiering through one of those aforementioned sustainable hospitality choices longer than humanly possible in spite of (oddly prescient) racial discrimination issues …truly helped me survive all of the pandemic in the aftermath of said gig. Sometimes God’s blessings are Weird.
But I gotta trust them. & go with it.
welcome to the improvisation.
It’s being kept to the coast sans a few flourishes and logistical assists. Because I truly love California.
The call on me isn’t to fully leave- as many acquaintances I had out here have heeded in 2020 for their safety & sanity.
It seems to be to embrace the subtle insanity of all of this & go with the flow since I know these kind of rapids and am solo…
And to WRITE MY FUCKING ass off.
Not said glibly.
Hopefully I won’t die.
Part of the surreal blessing of how things unfolded this year has been unfettered access to respiratory specialists, traveling doctors and nurses. Those conversations have completely altered my shortstory process. But most importantly… because THIS is the medical field’s chance to be Gladiators on the world stage, I have been given NO illusions about the severity of this beast they’re risking their lives trying to figure out FOR us.
I love conspiracy theories. I write Dark Fantasy, Sci Fi and travel and alternative lifestyle pieces, of course I love conspiracy theories. I am (gleefully) as much Jeff Goldblum yelling at the morons about f ureaking dinosaurs running amok as I am Jeff Goldblum perversely enthralled over turning into a fly in my heart of hearts.
It’d be soooo cooool if it wasn’t… but This pandemic shit is actually happening.
I do not believe I will get it.
Not because I am superhuman… or because I am a somewhat militant germaphobe of the Virgo persuasion who treats everyone like they have pinkeye, was horrified over how many were bitching about having to wash their hands, and was already immunity amplifying before any mention of bats and masks. Which brings another edge to even being out in these streets, really. But I couldn’t afford to stay put, soaking in paranoia and dread of another lockdown that indeed did materialize days after I hit the road. On any level.
If I do die…it’ll suck.
Because I really love my lungs.
Many of you who have done qi gong with me since February have possibly picked up on that love. It’s like having trees in my chest~ and trees are an important symbolic motif in my writerhead world-building geist.
But~ If I do die, trying to make the best of the variables currently on offer…the blaze of writerhead glory doing so might be kinda fucking epic, cowboying like a motherfuck!
…so let’s go.
Most importantly, It had to be seen firsthand. All of it. The artist and the angelic aspects demanded it.
And rest assured… I AM Suited up. Masked up. Sanitized and hand-washed OUT. Socially distancing… Luckily, because of all the Immunity prepping I’ve been leading all of you through since the initial quarantine began, my immunity is boosted and continually being amped on the road.
I’m doing my Qi Gong, I’m staying positive…and I am seeing light in peoples eyes who have to be out in all this…and it kind of gets me high. I’m on the road, interacting with those who have taken it upon themselves to give the rest of us so much of a semblance of normalcy that many have the luxury to think this is a hoax. They’re saints. These essential workers. Many sans any choice in the matter OF being out there. Here.
So many do not believe this pandemic is happening.
I AM…Talking. To people. The best I can from six feet away.
Collecting oral histories and gleaning a sense of places in 2020 the best I can.
On a tight budget that is going farther on the road than it did sitting still in fear.
So far, I’ve trekked to eight cities in just under a month.
Par for the course during Globalboho High Season.
A surreal, sublime, damn near apocalyptic visual ( & lucidly psychotropic in its own right) veritable feast during covid.
Documenting this the way I do best, the only thing I can think to give at this point that does something positive. An ear. And hopefully some good captures of life in the midst of this. We’ll see.
All of it is by the seat of my pants… and by grace.
Because I still do not have my license.
So my highways and by-ways are hardcore. Old-school.
But what this means is I am being given a bird’s eye view into HOW these systems of transport are truly handling this.
… And that has actually been extremely encouraging.
This also means exhibiting trust when it comes to food “on the road,” a sacred tenet of all things #globalboho. Already it has been a trip.
Due to the 11h issue of the Mag.globalboho being a month-long “collective experience” due to the Holy Days concept anyway~ as I distill what I am seeing and experiencing, I will release the articles.
Please wish me well.
If you want to put funds towards the spartan budget of all this wayfindering, my Paypal is email@example.com Lol.
Put “#enjoytheride” or “The Mag” in the note and I’ll shout you out as this unfolds, if you wish.
Beyond that, enjoy the Holy Days proceedings as I vayo con Dios in a wholly new way this December.
Where am I now?
Vegas, baby. Vegas.