Men don't like to admit it but our appearance is of great concern to most of us. Most men aren't into fashion in the same way that women are but we have similar hangups about our style and our appearance. One stylistic choice I was confronted with in Spain: Do I wear one of those money belts which people use tocarry passports and currency?


The money belt is a useful invention. It protects a travellers important posessions against theft. It is certainly harder for a pickpocket to reach into your crotch to steal your credit card then to slip his/her hand into your pocket. Their utility is undeniable but the fact still remains, they just don't look that cool. Money belts aren't as bad as fannypacks but one still can't escape looking like a goober sporting this travel accessory.

This is probably one of many conflicts between style and utiltiy which people have to decide between every day. Other examples are high heels, flip-flops, and thos impossibly skinny hipster jeans that have pockets wich are impossible to fit anything in.

Is looking cool as important to me as preserving my safety and general welfare...not quite. I opted to wear the money belt (not until I learned the hard way and was robbed of my credit card and driver's license). But living in Los Angeles, the city of surfaces and appearances, for four years made the decision more difficult.

The longer I live in LA the more distant I feel from my hippie influenced Oregonian past. Cargo shorts and tye-dye don't seem to cut it anymore. On my trip to Spain I visited a small mountain town called Granada. It is basically the Eugene of Spain. People dress in birkenstock style shoes, wear flowing sorts of linen pants and skirts, and sport dreadlocks no matter their ethnicity. In fact I even saw some dreadlock mullets. These particular hairstyles were short and neat in the front and long and locked in the back. It was a new level of groddy-granolaness that I honestly wasn't ready for.

The longer I stayed in Granada the greater my urge to sport some super trendy, yuppie, urban styles. I longed to spike my hair up and bleach the tips, or don one of those big leather strap things people wear to hold their watches. This is a sea change from my former self who dreamed of owning a merry-prankster style bus tricked out with furry carpet walls. The old me wanted dreadlocks so bad in high school that I rubbed my head for a day with a piece of wool, eventually giving myself a tangled knot of hair and a very irritated scalp. What has gotten into me? Now i'm closer to Abercrombie than Garfunkle.

I think one answer is the kinds of subcultures I relate to. Living in Los Angeles for four years and Brighton England for six months has made me accostomed to a fast paced form of life. I enjoy going out to clubs and dance parties more than chilling at home. I would rather go to a massive rave than an outdoor music festival. With that said I still enjoy an occasional hackey-sack session and once in a while you will see me at a drum circle. But I aint one of dem long-haired freeaks ya'll.

I always reach some point in a trip when I get tired of siteseeing. For me, there is a definite point of saturation when I have seen too many statues and churches, and squares, and plazas, and my feet are blistered and sore and my neck is cricked from constantly staring at some monument which Rick Steves has told me I can´t go without seeing. Usually my response to this problem is to drink.

Being on vacation is great because there are plenty of excuses to drink.

1. Im trying to absorb the culture by sampling a variety of local beverages in colorful drinking establishments.

2. Hey, Im only here once right? I should probably make the most of it.

3. Once I get back home I´m just going to have to start working again anyway, and I cant drink at work. Well, at least not that much.

4. If I get full on drinks and cheap bar food then I won´t have to spen so much money on meals and since Im drunk I won´t need to spend money on entertainment either. Hell yeah bartender, I will take another 8 euro mojito.

Theres nothing better than being drunk in a foreign country. There´s no one you know around to see you acting like a fool and unless you have the dexterity and mental acuity to dial the 20 digit number on your calling card there´s no way to make any emberassing drunk dials. Plus when your stumbling down the streets of (input your favorite European city) you aren´t a sad alcoholic but a travelling bohemian, an adventurer filled with wanderlust and a passion for life, unfulfilled by boring travel guides and the sober, conformist way of life.

I went to the prada musuem this morning. Its one of those vast European art musuems with hundreds of rooms and thousands of pieces of art, each one more priceless than the last. The world of art is amazing but it can be difficult for a naive viewer such as myself to get into when I have no historical. cultural, or technical knowledge about the works of art. Its hard to be impressed by an artwork when you don´t know what inspired the artist to create the work or what kinds of techniques he used to make the effects you are viewing.

On my last European adventure I stopped going to art musuems after my trip to the Louvre (well I went to one afterwords in Florence but that was only because they had my namesake, the statue of David). The Louvre was so huge and had so many works on every wall that I couldn´t concentrate my attention on any of it. Plus on the way to see the Mona Lisa I had to walk through a million rooms with pictures of Jesus and Mary. Jesus fucking Christ appears in so much art. I get his importance and all but I would be happy if I never saw his face again. Italian and Spanish painters don´t seem to paint much of anything else. I much prefer this:

To this:


My favorite works in the Prada were by Bosch, Goya, and Breugel. The Garden of Earthly Delights is an amazing painting. There are tons of little scenes that can catch your attention. And its not just the sex and violence which attracts me to this painting. The buildings and other structures are so bizaarre looking and fantastical. They draw my mind out of the mundane world and into the world of dreamscapes and fantasies. Art should inspire creativity and spur the mind. The best art draws on the irrantional and insane side of human nature. Religious art is repertitive because it evokes the same emotions, worship and awe, while impressionistic or subjective art draws from all the experiences and emotions of the artist. All looking at pictures of Jesus does for me is make me realize how much of an atheist I am.

The begining is the end

When I was learning to write stories in school my teachers would always tell me to start a story in the middle. This technique, called "en media res" is designed to grab the readers attention which will easily flag when confronted with the traditional begining, middle, end structure of most stories. well, i figure why not take this tactic a step further and begin my story at the end...

One of the highlights of my summer, something I have been looking forward to for months, is this trip to Spain I am on right now. Like most people in the ADD era I am never satisfied with the here and now. I always need something more, something excessive and fun and over the top to look forward to. Spain was one of those things. Just¨thinking about the trip brought back images of my semester abroad last year and all the crazy travel andventures I experienced.

At the begining of the trip I started writing down some notes on my travels. These are in the nature of philosophical musings, journal entries, and satirical essays. For some reason travelling always draws out my creative side. It must be the new experiences which stir my mental morass and the freedom from every day chores such as laundry, work, staying fit, and being a generally responsible person which allows my mind to wander and grasp on more creative pursuits. Here above are some of my literary idols who have influenced me in the style and content of my writing:

xxxdisclaimerxxx
I don´t mean this blog to be a place for me to brag about my exploits or a place for me to weep out my shortcomings and psychological deficiencies. This is merely the most convenient forum for me to share my creative energies in a constructive form. I have always enjoyed the process of writing out my thoughts and yet it seems much more real and tangible when I make these thoughts public, in whatever limited form is available to me.