letters from publius.

essays on soul, spirit, and time.

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Tag: travel

  • James

    James

    THE LIE

    “My home surf-break identifies as better than J bay”

    My friend James from NJ said this… 

    …NJ waves suck. J-bay waves are awesome. It’s the conclusion of the famous movie “Endless Summer”… a quest for the most perfect wave in the world.

    This quote is basically saying your local sledding hill is equivalent to skiing Utah.

    __

    James is 37 now.

    We went to college together.

    He lives in a super rich manhattan commuter town very far away from good surf. 

    Like if you’re a surfer you wouldn’t live there.

    __

    James married an awesome girl, she’s pretty.

    She’s a GP at a really famous consulting firm.

    “Yeah our plan is to retire early and travel the world.”

    -James in 2025

    __

    “My home break identifies as better than J bay”

    He was responding to my note on our group thread that said “Malibu first point is a more fun wave to ride than Cloudbreak.”

    Why would James respond that way lol?

    Deflection right? Sarcastic deflection… 

    I live in SoCal near some of the best waves in the world.

    And James loves to surf.


    But he chose to live in NJ next to some of the shittiest waves in the world because his wife is “GP at a really famous consulting firm”… 

    Oh and the only time the waves aren’t shitty is in the depth of winter (below freezing air temps, ice cold water)…

    __

    I’ve been watching the office again recently. 

    It’s bleak to me  

    Super dark.

    Work a meaningless job, settle for comfort, and find one person to make it bearable. 

    Basically the middle class that the masses settle for.

    I debate whether or not I should keep watching it.

    Because it’s so clearly a transition from the unrealisim of the post rom-com era of the 90s.

    So clearly a harbinger for the disconnected app-based marriage-and-kids-as-virtue-signaling world that we’re wrapped up in nowadays. 

    __

    James and his wife got pregnant recently.

    “Yeah, now we think we need to grind it out another 10-20 years.”

    Another 20 years… fuck, man!!

    __

    THE TRUTH

    “Obviously they’re getting all the waves! They’re surfing a perfect pointbreak on massive ass fucking boards!”

    -frustrated no-name visitor at first point who brought a board that was too small and got absolutely 0 fucking waves during a perfect summer swell at Malibu

    __

    The faces at first point are perfect. 

    It’s like if you could take the culture of California and turn it into a wave.

    Dreamy, long, cruisy, tapering…

    Just a perfect shape.

    It peels forever on a good day… off into the sunset… and the sun is always shining…

    The ride time is so long… 

    You can style it so beautifully… nose ride it, walk the board, connect sections, do these biggg lay back knee drop turns… or just pump a little, trim, and enjoy yourself… 

    It feels like you’ve got more than enough time to do whatever you want… and then it’s suddenly over…

    Those rides are so dreamy…

    __

    Our brains are hardwired for scarcity.

    But our world is abundant… too abundant…

    What… 9 billion people? 

    Probably 100 million suitable mates?

    __

    “My home break identifies as better than J-bay”

    Lol dude fuck off…

    You just signed up for New Jersey for 30 years… that’s not my problem.

    No take-backs with a wife or kids either.

    Makes me wonder how many guys would “return” it if it were that easy. 

    Probably a lot… 50% divorce rate with all that pain in the system… 

    Seriously… if it were frictionless… how high would that number get?

    __

    Jim and Pam… a sweet lullaby… the death knoll for adventurers everywhere.

    __

    THE QUESTION

    After I jotted this down I read a chapter on Romance from Jordan Peterson’s second book.

    The TLDR is, if you’re not in a marriage between 21-35 then your life will be suboptimal.

    Basically, you’ll regret it.

    He drills this in over and over.

    The odd thing is it makes marriage seem like a battlefield. 

    A war that must be had in order to live in peace.

    But I grew up in pure heaven. My parents never fought. Are still super attracted to each other. They’re quite happy. 

    Our house was never a battleground. It was a sanctuary. 

    Some place you walked into and felt a huge sigh of relief…

    Not the fucking opposite.

    __

    Peterson is a troubled soul. 

    Why not solve for peace first and avoid war altogether?

    __

    I’m also reading Derek Sivers book “Useful Not True”

    The TLDR is, facts are simple and not emotional. 

    Most of the time you’re hearing opinions and perspectives.

    We’re social animals, we really want people to reinforce our opinions and perspectives and social scenarios as facts. 

    Derek sivers is quite happy. He recently told me he despises domesticity, as do a lot of his good friends [lol do a little research on who his friends are].

    __

    I believe god / the universe / whatever is good.

    What does good mean? 

    Well I think one thing it means is multiple solutions work. 

    So if you’re making statements, axioms, etc… chances are other views / perspectives can also lead to a pretty good outcome.

    __

    I’m single. 

    From my POV I dodged a couple of bullets.

    It makes me so happy every time I think about the day-to-day that those metaphorical “bullets” would have led to.

    But from Peterson’s POV, I shouldn’t be happy. My happiness is irresponsible. A denial. A refusal to sacrifice the present for a “better” tomorrow. 

    I should have to go to war with a domestic partner to be happy. And to enjoy forced romance with the same person I’m going to sleep with for the rest of my life. 

    The funny thing is I was stuck in that with the same partner for 5 years. It was just awful. Terrible. And I don’t use those words lightly. 

    Could I have made it work? Yeah. But it would have absolutely sucked.

    And now I’m not in it. And I quite literally believe my life is heaven.

    “Useful not true…”

    Peterson’s narrative is quite useful for his situation. Take a look at his wife… just google it.

    Anyways, Peterson’s conviction made me unhappy about my scenario which I was previously happy about.

    “Useful not true…”

    __

    Ahh self-doubt…

    Here’s the thing.

    I don’t really know if I’m right. 

    Maybe Peterson’s right. 

    Maybe I’m avoiding. Maybe I’ll be too late. Maybe the social milieu is the way it is for one or another reason… And following my counter-culture ways will end me in a pit of despair.

    But I do know I’m happy most of the time… I can tell you that. Confidently.

    And if I’m not happy it’s not because of my set-up. It’s usually because I’m caring about some other person’s judgment, or afraid of some perceived threat (that’s not really a threat) that my anxious brain is telling me to be wary of. 

    And I do know that I’m particularly happy when I’m doing things that I love, and have honed / sharpened / grown over the years (surfing, running, hiking, triathlon, volleyball, writing etc. etc. etc.)

    And I do know that finding things that you objectively love. Things that don’t depend on another person. Is a bullet proof way to enjoy life. And the more you practice them, the closer you approach mastery… and mastery… wooh… makes me tear up and get the goosebumps just thinking about it…

    __

    And this marriage stuff…

    “Useful not true”… there are multiple solutions to happiness…

    • Sivers divorced and is quite happy
    • Ferris never married
    • Bezos divorced
    • Gates divorced
    • Vaynerchuk divorced 
    • Ravikant got married at 39

    Marriage… Is it dogma? is it virtue?

    Is marrying early good for those who are grasping? Who don’t have a purpose? 

    Is marrying early bad who are at peace, and do have purpose? 

    __

    When I was 19 in college I was having a pretty rough time. I was reading philosophy from a lot of folks who were also having a pretty rough time… And despite their philosophy, continued to have a rough time.

    I had this insight that I’ve followed since then… Try and read and follow the philosophies of happy people. Be wary of following philosophies of sad people–particularly if their philosophies don’t make them less sad.

    What the fuck is the point of a philosophy if it doesn’t make you happy?

    “Useful not true…”

    __

    I was out surfing in Malibu about a week after I wrote this.

    I watched this cutie hang 10 on like 3 or 4 waves in a row.

    It does an injustice to call it graceful.

    It was perfect. The water clear… only a couple people out. 

    She was just beautiful.

    Huge smile the whole time.

    Levitating, both toes off a 10 foot board. 

    Angelic. 

    __

    Jordan peterson hasn’t gotten tubed

    Jordan peterson hasn’t hung 10

    Jordan peterson hasn’t run an ironman

    Jordan peterson hasn’t run an ultra

    Jordan peterson hasn’t made love to a 10 / 10… (check out his wife)

    Jordan peterson wasn’t an investment banker at age 19

    Jordan peterson is a pretty normal guy. An average white dude. Who grew up in rural Canada and is extremely smart.

    And despite his fame and success, has a good amount of psych problems. 

    That’s not to say pieces of his advice… or even all of his advice… is not a “good” thing.

    I still recite the majority of his rules a couple times a week if not every morning… They’re pretty damn good guideposts.

    But again, useful not true… which ones work for you? And at which point in your life do they work for you? And in which scenarios do they work for you? 

    __

    “My yoke is easy. My burden is light”

    “Seek wisdom, but not to the point you don’t enjoy life”

    Life isn’t meant to be war.

    Quite the opposite

    __

    I watched that babe… just so beautiful. Such a big smile. 

    I caught her eye as she paddled back out… totally aware she was snaking me and gonna catch the best wave in the next set.

    “Hi” she said with a coy little smile. 

    😉

    Publius

    EPILOGUE

    In 2026 James, 2 more guys, and myself had another trip planned to Fiji. 

    James bailed last minute. Lost like 6k. It was because of childcare. 

    His wife had a business trip. 

    He said to us the year before “a condition of our marriage is I get one uninterrupted surf trip per year.”

    That’s when I opened up this blog post again and read it through. It had been a year since I wrote it. 

    I decided to publish it after I reread it. 

    A reminder to be very mindful of lifelong decisions I lock myself into. And the fear, anxiety, social comparisons, conventions, etc. that could lead to locking us into those decisions. 

    “Hell yeah or no”… another quip that both naval and sivers cite when making these sorts of decisions. 

    Which is a particularly useful axiom for my way of life.

  • issy

    issy

    “Well I guess I’ll just continue with my travels” she said. 

    __

    She and I met in a hostel on Kuta Lombok in 2015 when there were 2 paved roads and not much else. 

    I was a dirtbag surfer. Traveling out of an old backpack… weathered, gritty, with dirt and shit all over it. 

    She was a British girl… had been traveling for 6 or 7 months. Petite. Short blonde hair that worked for her. Not the bad short… like all these washed up american 30 somethings in 2025… trimming to try and imitate celebrities. 

    Beautiful short. Sun-bleached. Raw. Natural. 

    She had these old birkenstocks I’ll never forget. Old and weathered. Had been out in the rain a bunch.

    I thought they were goofy.

    She assured me they weren’t.

    She wore around this black little thong 2 piece… definitely not goofy… definitely, definitely not goofy.

    __

    “Well I guess I’ll just continue with my travels…” 

    We paused for a second. Didn’t make eye contact. 

    It was one of those private moments you share in deep love… 

    but a deep love that’s temporary and you both know it and the person who asked the question knows it too… 

    but you’re just so wrapped up in that love that you can’t really fathom the impermanence of it.

    She inhaled her cigarette, exhaled… then looked out at the ocean.

    __

    I got barrelled earlier that day. 

    A gift from God. 

    Being in the barrel of a wave is one of the more transcendent life experiences. 

    The faith of pulling in. The shallow and sharp reef beneath. Understanding the consequences (and high likelihood) of a fall – deep cuts and gashes on a rural island. 

    And the sound… The sound in the tube is the most surreal part for me… suddenly the outside world disappearing… a weird sort of vacuum mechanical white noise as the wave envelops you. 

    The light blue curtain separates you from the outside world… The sun shining through on your path into a new dimension.

    Then you either fall… skipping down the face of the wave, sucked over the top, covering your face and praying to god the consequences aren’t that bad.

    Or you make it out… miraculously… 

    That moment though… deep in the tube… it’s never long enough… you just wish it could last forever.. It’s never long enough… 

    Every one is different… the same… but different… 

    A portal to another dimension 

    __

    On our way back from lunch that day some Indo yelled out “bro bro!” on the side of the rural road. He snagged a shot of that barrel I got… 

    “Goofy rasta” was the title of the photo. I’m goofy footed and had my dreads long… it’s wild how much youths of developing countries idolize dark skinned dudes with dreads… 

    She got a good laugh outta that one,… “Goofy rasta hehe”

    __

    That night she and I found some gorgeous inlet. The swell was down. It was just calm glassy little waves. Mountains in the background. Untouched sand. Nobody there. Nobody was in west sumbawa. 

    I’m sure there will be some day… The same way Bali got developed. The same way Lombok is getting developed.

    The pattern is simple…Surfer dudes bring their lover girls to some remote and beautiful and consequential break. Just looking for empty tubes…

    Get surfed out… come back to a little shack by the sea to deep connection. Raw sex. Lust or love and connection with everything that is. 

    __

    Then that spot gains a little momentum… 

    The surfer girlies open a little yoga studio and a little cafe… 

    The wrong dudes find out… who bring the wrong girls… who tik tok or insta or snapchat or whatever the fuck they’re all doing nowadays that’s putting all the gems on the map

    More of the wrong girls come.

    More of the wrong dudes come to try and get more of the wrong girls…

    Posers… literal posers… 

    Then it’s ruined…

    And then 2 years later my friends from college start talking about some cool new spot that they wonder if “like have you ever been there, nick?”

    __

    “Well I guess I’ll just continue with my travels…”

    This quote was Issy’s response to an intrusive couple that had asked about our story and what we were gonna do when I left indonesia for the U.S. peace corps in Mozambuqie…  

    Such a sad reminder of the finite when we were just chilling in timelessness at this indo-australian couple’s bungalow… that couple had been chilling in timelessness for a while… they had a little garden to the left and would serve up these huge curry bowls to all the surfers every afternoon

    We were so obviously deep in love… so obviously deep in the moment… the nerve of that other couple to take us out…  

    But I’ll never forget that moment. We were both so surprised I think by the question. Like, how could we even concern ourselves with “what’s after?” when the moment was so good. 

    We were just so caught up in it. We hadn’t even thought about it ending. What would happen when it ended? Why would it end? How could something that visceral even end?

    And could something that felt so powerful and real… dreamy… but real… really die for quotidian / finite-structural circumstances?

    …….

    Yes. The answer is yes. Most things like that do.

    The deeper I get into life. The more this is evident to me.

    The dream of life dies with the quotidian… with reality.

    The quotidian is insidious.

    Reality is limiting. 

    We have to guard against the creep of the quotidian.

    Guard against the seemingly inexorable “reality.”

    Or we’ll be left on our death bed with deep, deep regret… Regrets of all the bullshit limitations we hoisted upon ourselves and unrelentingly held onto for no fucking reason at all. 

    __

    Is it even possible to avoid the quotidian without letting go? 

    To live in a dreamy world while grasping for our perceived reality? 

    Because once something is fully integrated and accepted doesn’t it become quotidian?

    Once something becomes finite / structural / measurable… doesn’t that make it real?  

    So then… logically… isn’t the whole art to a soulful and dreamy life just as much about letting go as it is about falling in love in the first place? 

    __

    Life’s big questions… 

    What I do know is moments like these…the one here that issy and i shared as we motorcycled around the Indonesian archipelago…are the point of life. 

    It’s why I could die tomorrow with tears of joy… because of how beautiful and full it’s all been.

    __

    EPILOGUE

    Issy and I still talk from time to time. She has a kid with some guy. 

    I’m doing my thing.

    It probably pisses her off a little… the fact that i ping her outta the blue with some visceral and emotionally triggering memory. 

    She also probably loves it a little… 

    I think I know that too… I think it’s sorta funny… 

    Still fucking around with her over things that are borderline not OK to fuck around with her about…

    I know she thinks it’s sorta funny deep down too.

    That’s part of why we fell so deeply in love.

    __

    The humor behind it is why we know we need to be careful.

    She knows she can’t get reeled in too far.

    And I know I can’t reel her in too far.

    The infinite dance between the masculine and feminine 

    We both know we need to be careful. 

    -Publius

  • Soul

    Soul

    I left Saint-Christophe-des-Bardes for 24 hours. 

    I went to Biarritz. This was the purpose of this trip. 

    I left beaming, my soul moving with the rhythm of the music. 

    I thanked the vineyards for their peace, the birds for their songs, the insects for minding their own business. 

    And the fresh air. 

    The little stray cat I’d befriended ran in the house as I was trying to lock the door to leave.

    I called it back out. 

    It jumped over a little concrete wall and looked at me. Then looked out at the vineyards.

    I called to it, and we locked eyes for what I thought would be our last moment together.

    I thanked it and wished it well. I don’t know if it understood.

    Then it turned around and walked slowly off into the vines. 

    __

    Biarritz was a lot. The Airbnb was nestled in a neighborhood. Albeit not a pretty one.

    Boxed in, a bit run down. Windows right on the street. I’d see day trippers parking there and walking 15 minutes into town. 

    Why? Because the town’s parking and narrow roads were just too difficult to navigate. 

    __

    I’ve surfed all over. I’ve worked through the etiquette, egos and tides across the world. I’m a local at Malibu first point. Was a local at Kuta Lombok. I’ve charged cloudbreak.

    I’m not an asshole. I’m respectful. I longboard, short board, mid length… whatever. 

    I’ve felt welcoming lineups, and I’ve felt stiff performative ones as well.

    __

    The locals were judgey. Glaring eyes. Posturing. Styled. Weird. Napoleon complexes abound in performance shortboarding.

    The waves were good for France. But it was that fat deep water European stuff. Chunky. A lot of water moving. Not shallow enough to really get a good push into the wave.

    __

    Sometimes you don’t know what your soul needs until you get there. 

    __

    What my soul wanted was a chill beach town, beat up rental log, a few soul sliders before and after work. All smiles; that’s the first thing I realized when I started longboarding. Way more smiles. Way more soul. Way less doing. Way less testosterone. Way more babes.

    yea… way more soul…

    __

    After I checked the surf and realized… “yeah… this is gonna be a whole thing” … I grabbed a beach cruiser and cycled all around the gorgeous bluffs of biarritz. 

    Hair down, dreads blowing, smiles from all sorts of babes. Meandering through the town. Biking in places people don’t usually go. Trying to keep it together and keep my eyes on the road because of the beauty of the whole place.

    I take a lot of photos. I swear though, the most beautiful ones don’t get taken. I’m just too wrapped up in it. 

    __

    The town of biarritz has three sceney spots. Just annoying. 

    Women with stiff faces, probably botoxed, sipping some sort of light colored drink in perfect see through glasses. 

    I breezed by the first scene on my bike… I realized it was a scene when I peddled half way through.

    Then there’s this huge bluff with a switchback. The old rusty beach cruiser I was on didn’t have enough gears. I was hoofing it, lol! Climbing with a huge smile on my face. 

    __

    When I got to the bluff I was astounded. The overlook had about 150 yards of railing. Jam packed with people from, I assume, all over Europe. I don’t know. 

    Giggling to myself I thought… “What the fuck?!?!” lol. 

    __

    The rest of the ride was cruisy. Less populated. Gorgeous ocean. And then the final scene with the douchey surfers… yikes.

    __

    Coming back I passed the bluff again. Even more crowded. A bar that was more packed than I’d seen in a while.

    Everyone drinking and smoking. 

    I went up and left my bike unlocked on one of the overpacked bike racks… Multiple layers of people watching the sunset. I couldn’t even find a spot to stand. It was like a music festival…

    I picked up my bike and started walking it out. I saw a couple of style people wearing those light yellow sunglasses that are getting popular again in SoCal. I smiled and laughed. 

    __

    On the way home I biked through the town… Scene #4. Patios, drinks, trendy restaurants. Loads of babes.

    I smiled at everyone of them. They smiled back. We held eye contact long enough to know what might happen if we spoke.

    __

    When I got back to the airbnb I knew Biarritz wasn’t it right now. 

    I ordered Uber eats. 

    The driver stole part of my order. 

    __

    I hopped on Airbnb and booked the place I stayed in Saint-Émilion. 

    I woke up in the morning and knew I could make Biarritz work if I wanted to. I abound with optimism every morning – I’ve trained this.

    __

    I found ants crawling all over my luggage. Everywhere. All over my shirts.

    And left promptly after.

    __

    I wrestled with a lot of emotion over this decision. I felt like I was giving up. The idea of the trip unraveling.

    But did it truly unravel?

    Isn’t the point of adventure the unexpected? Isn’t the growth of the soul a deepening of the appreciation of that which you couldn’t even fathom? 

    If you told me I’d rather stay in the french countryside surrounded by vineyards, vs. a surf town like Biarritz… I woulda laughed you out of the room…

    But here I am…

    __

    Discerning ego from soul is simple. The soul is light as a feather. Truth is as simple as a thought that lasts a millisecond.

    The ego constricts. It makes the world small. It doesn’t flow. It grasps. It doesn’t let go. It holds onto ideas. The ego is exhausting… And inexhaustible. 

    The ego in this scenario beat me up–why don’t you just make it work? But you’re losing money if you go back to the place you were at… some of the best things in life are challenging, why don’t you just push through? Maybe your wife is here? Maybe you’ll meet that victoria long boarder girlie and fall in love like in your fantasies….

    Looking back on the ego, it’s so clear that it was ego. Hard in the moment though, especially when it has its tentacles around your brain

    __

    Wouldn’t it be so simple if there was a roadmap for following your heart? For following your soul?

    __

    The ride back to Saint-Émilion was perfect. The ego kept popping up. I kept letting go. 

    When I pulled up to the little house, the stray cat I adore and had been taking care of greeted me. It appeared out of nowhere, immediately when I started pulling into the driveway. 

    When I hopped out of the car it came up and rubbed on my ankles like the first time we met.

    __

    I unpacked… And put my suitcase down on the table outside. 

    Ants crawling all over it still from the prior airbnb.

    __

    I called airbnb to let them know. Messaged the hosts.

    Airbnb responded, the hosts didn’t. 

    I sent a video.

    Got refunded.

    The cost of my trip actually decreased. 

    I was honest, truthful… I followed my instincts and went to where my soul was at peace. 

    The airbnb hosts were upset after the refund. They berated me. I walked in peace. I couldn’t help but think “maybe I and this scenario are a learning lesson for them”.

    The universe has a way of taking care of things when you walk in truth. 

    __

    I had the best run in months that night. 6×10 minutes on 1 minutes rest.

    The bone stress injuries to my tibia had finally healed after 4 month–they felt so strong…

    New bone. Strong. Rested. Rejuvenated.

    __

    That evening I went for a walk. There were scattered showers earlier. 

    I turned around overlooking the rolling hills of Saint-Émilion. 

    The most vivid rainbow I’d seen in years encompassed the entire horizon.

    I’ll never forget it. The best photos go untaken

    __

    God works in mysterious ways.

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  • Saint-Émilion

    Saint-Émilion

    Here I sit, listening to the chirping of the birds. A calico cat meandering around, brushing gently on my ankle.

    The vineyards off in the distance. Starlink beaming HD quality internet to my lap top.

    The mornings are cool and quiet.

    The evenings peaceful.

    Inbetween is work. Something about the distance contextualizes the whole thing. 

    My boss, the CEO, is somewhere on the west coast right now.

    He’ll be in Denmark for the month of August.

    “I’m Jealous”, he responded, when I told him where I was. Sure he can be a dick. Or I thought. I’ve learned he’s just direct. Life is easier that way. The shortest path to truth… Might be a little painful if you’re not adjusted to it.

    It expedites the quickest path to the best reality, though.

    His values are what matter – life is meant to be lived and savored… every sip of it, just like a fine wine or a hot cup of french press with beans sourced from the misty hills of Ethiopia. 

    “This wine is too good for toast drinking my dear. You can’t toast drink with a wine like that. You’ll lose the taste”

    __

    The world is changing. Some say for the worse. But didn’t “some” always say that? 

    __

    My friend Scott sent me pictures of his new child. “Why are you in Bordeaux?” He asked. 

    He used to know. I don’t know where he lost the answer. 

    __

    It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the stuff that doesn’t matter. 

    It’s so easy to think that a hit of molly and 5 drinks are what it means to enjoy life. 

    Who am I to say, though.

    __

    Protect your peace at all cost. Keep the vision. Know when to stop. Doing nothing is more powerful than doing something a lot of the time.

    like the vibe? subscribe :). reach out. my soul is in here. i love hearing from anyone it resonates with.

  • Emily

    Emily

    Golden hair. 5’9. Curves flowing like the waves in the ocean. 

    “I’m the luckiest girl in the world”

    7 years older than I was at the time. 25 to 32. 

    I was staying at a hostel in Wellington. I’ll never forget when she first walked out. 

    Put together. Black turtle neck up to her chin. Slim. Gorgeous. 

    Grace in every step. A slightly amused closed lip smile. 

    __

    “I’m from Germany. But my family, they’re vikings. From Iceland. I’m a strong viking hehe look at my muscles”

    She was just to die for…

    “Oh my god you lived in New York… I just love New York… But it’s just so busy. And something is missing there. But I just love it. Oh you worked on wall street? Where? Wow… Oh you went to Penn? My ex went to yale”

    “But get away now! This is wine time! It’s for old ladies! You’re too young hehe!”

    Just to die for…

    __

    How did she even end up at a little hostel full of dirtbag travelers in Wellington?

    “I’m a lawyer… I went to Cardozo in NYC. I got so bored with Corporate law. My Dad’s a famous judge in Germany. I came here for the summer to do xyz law work for fun. I was going to stay in this hostel for a little bit then get a sublet. But it’s just so fun! Like who would think that a proper 32 year old German lawyer would live in such a place. But it’s just so fun!”

    My heart was melting.

    __

    One night everyone in the hostel was going out. She and I were chatting. A couple drinks. Flirting. We went to some little divy dance bar in Wellington. Something that felt like baby’s alright in Brooklyn in the 2010s.

    We ended up dancing together. She taught me. Our bodies got close. I can’t remember if I kissed her there or back at the hostel. Either way we ended up leaving together.

    __

    We found somewhere private… A little nook and cranny…

    Emily was famous for knitting. Peter (our friend) said it’s cuz she’s sexually frustrated.

    He walked in on us…

    “WOAH! Guess you won’t need to knit anymore!”

    We laughed…

    __

    It’s adventures like this in our youth that makes life worth living. Play. Fun. Different people. Different cultures. Foreign places. Adventure. True adventure.

    Emily and I are still friends. After I left Wellington to go surfing for a year in Indonesia I thought she’d come with me. 

    She didn’t. Her ex BF in NYC was her real BF. He’s ugly, but stable. I don’t know if she really loves him or not. Her love is different I imagine. Colder, like scandinavian winters. Maybe cozier.

    Mine is full of passion. Aficion like the matador in Hemingway’s Sun Also Rises. 

    It’s risky, it’s bright and strong like the sub saharan african sun. And cool as a deserts night when the sun goes down.

    __

    In 2020 she called me. After a couple glasses of wine. 

    “I just want you to know you were…um… it was the best. When we made love it was the best for me. I was talking to my friends and I just… I just wanted you to know that… Something about the passion. The way you kissed me and touched me. And put your arms around me. I just… I just wanted you to know that…”

    We spoke about traveling together around the world. Opening a little vineyard in some nook and cranny somewhere.

    We laughed…

    __

    In 2022 we met up for a drink when I was living in Brooklyn for a couple months. She hadn’t aged a day. 

    Sparks everywhere. A warm burning passion in my heart and stomach. 

    We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We spoke about sex, deep passion, kept grabbing each others hands in the middle of the table.

    One of us had to go or something. She walked me to the subway. 

    __

    “No I can’t meet up like that. I’m a grown lady! I have a boyfriend we live together. You can’t just come over I can’t do that.”

    The way she matter of fact and lightly can talk about something so deep is true art.

    __

    In her photos I don’t see her smile much. I wonder if the adventure is stil in her soul. Whether she longs for it. What could become of us and our story. Has it ended? 

    She has a kid and lives in a high rise in new york. I don’t see her leave much.

    __

    These sorts of relationships leave me with a deep yearning to keep living. Something about their essences helps me answer… What is this life? What’s the point of giving passion in the first place? Aficion? 

    And once you feel it why the fuck do some people give it up… especially when they’re so deeply in touch with it?! 

    __

    The answer, I surmise, is it’s just not intentional. It just goes unnurtured and then it dies. Slowly, insidiously, it dies.

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