The Squeaky Robot

A Meddling Robot in a Human's World

Posts tagged “stories

The Spectrum of Conveyance Connections

Posted on March 28, 2015

There are days in which I choose to fly. One of those days was in Hpa An, in Myanmar, when I zoomed around on two wheels from cave to mountain, mountain to cave, sweet wind-whipped apexes to moldy cool nadirs. Another one was in Ko Lanta, Thailand, as we circumnavigated the island like cushy explorers in hot pursuit of diamond water. Today was yet another one of those days when I flew around the greater area of Battambang, Cambodia, holding promises of ruins and Buddhist enlightenment in my pockets. 
It was 125cc’s of torque. It was a black Honda Future. It was a rental. With it I set off from central Battambang, a sleepy ‘colonial’ (that’s supposed to sell me?) city with long riverside…

Upcoming

Posted on November 22, 2013

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The “Fuck This _____” moment is a moment of patent irreconcilability. It’s the instant that you decide you can no longer live a certain way, cloaked by a certain pretense, a declaration of the unsustainable. You can move mountains in this moment and your resolve is so strong, any objection, internal or external, is hushed even before it’s voiced.

I’ll be in Vietnam sooner than later. January, to be exact. A year there and then I’m off. There’s the whole of Asia to see, you see, and the Middle East and Africa’s spine. Turkmenistan has a hole in the ground that is perpetually on fire, Namibia has sand dunes on which to sand-board and a dark sky preserve of that supreme quietness where only the universe is speaking to you, Japan has hole-in-wall ramen joints and I have a passion for ramen that is unmatched by anyone. There is something for me in every Place, just like there is something for you, but only if we choose to see it that way.

It will be a trip where I internalize, happily, the fact that I as an individual don’t mean much, I am bound to nothing, and I am free to roam the earth with good consequence. My lightness of being will only be kept semi-grounded by a small backpack, thereby keeping me from floating away.

I look at a map and the world seems so small. But what I really mean is that our world is finite. Ever-changing, but finite. And so I look at maps and I’m comforted by this thought, that there is only so much to see but it is enough to keep me busy.

Then there’s this romance: East Asia to Africa is everything and nothing to me.

Two-Percents

Posted on February 22, 2012

“Two-percent moments”. They’re the moments that would make it in a story told about someone long after they’re gone, the moments of a person’s life that define them, complete them, definitively alter their path, and flash before their eyes upon death. The moments that make living so extraordinary. A collective aggregate of important, beautiful, and calamitous events and occurrences and moments that would amount to two-percent of your entire life. Not the monotonous hours spent completing trivial tasks and empty formalities, but the most joyous and tragic occasions of a person’s life that they can’t and won’t forget; the stories your grandchildren will be hearing about before bedtime, wide-eyed, curious, and patiently awaiting another adventure, another momentous tale about their rogue ancestor (“Our grandma…