I’m back. And ready. Campus, flourish for me.

Let’s wiggle together magniloquently in the sifting sun.

Forsooth, baby.

Forsooth.

Dear San Francisco,

You and Paris were in cahoots to convince me to love cities. I discovered your ploy when I intercepted packets of correspondence between you and your french sister. They spoke of bustle and friendship and warmth amidst chills and independence and meaning and identity and language.

And in both of you there were so many goddamned hipsters.

Love forever,

-Wyatt

For this alone, live music is worth it. CDs don’t burst into shadow puppets with arms and hands exploding into tentacled octopi over ravaged guitars. Rodrigo y Gabriella, you make me squiggle.

Got back into pool. Quebecians make great adversaries. “Ton nom” is such sweet country speak for “Tu t’appelles comment?” — in english, they say “ya name?” instead of “You call yourself in which way?”. Over a stale beer in a dive bar, I can’t figure out which method of communication I think is sillier. One’s ugly but nimble, the other’s archaic but beautiful.

Eventually the eight is sunk, and four more quarters chink away to a rumbly demise. Such is life.

I’ll leave this sweet house forever soon. I reckon I already have. Adventures await.

This summer, like the song playing in this photo (as evidenced by his languid form), was perfect.

A good life lesson. Thank you, Pier 39.

Dear Wyatt,

Congratulations on getting elected to the Australian Parliament. I admire your drive and your courage, if not your values or political platform.

I would like to thank you for boosting my photography website traffic 600%, and for inspiring a wikipedia page devoted to us.

Cheers,

-Wyatt Roy

It’s finally happened.

I’ve decided to give up meat.

HAH.

For a week (see how it goes). I never found the ethical dilemmas much of a dilemma — as far as i’m concerned, the only reason cows and pigs aren’t extinct is because we have a use for them. Perhaps they’d be better off extinct than jammed in a squalid cage and force-fed until their calculated, brutal death? Perhaps. But I don’t buy that. Then I thought, I’ll eat less meat to save energy costs and decrease my carbon footprint. but that doesn’t necessarily mean “go vego”, because cheese has a high carbon cost, as does, apparently, tofu? There’s an awfully mixed data set up on Mr Internet.

So to hell with the rationalisations — I’m going to eat nothing that’s ever had a heart for the next week.

Just for the challenge.

(Cheese has no heart.)

There’s a problem with google. It can’t actually find everything.

I thought it could.

I’ve had a rap song in my head for the past 4 months that none of my friends can place, name, or identify. The only lyrics i can remember are a sped-up sample of George Michael or Stevie Wonder’s I Believe. I’m so confused. Google was useless.

Now I’m trying to figure out what this toy is called, and it fails once again. Ideas, anyone? On both the toy’s name and how to design a better search system…

Classic situation: I wake up. I realise, THERE ARE THINGS TO DO. Sometimes there actually aren’t. But I still wake up feeling that way. This is silly.

On saturday, I woke up in a different state. 500 miles from home.

And when I woke up, there was nothing that needed to be done. Nowhere that needed to be gone too, nobody that needed attention. And I realised it. I was in Ashland, Oregon. And it felt that way.

First we ate breakfast at midday. Then we went to a park and blew touchable bubbles called Bloonies. Then we played frisbee. Then we blew more bloonies. Then we met friendly people. Then we blew more bloonies. At one point, I messed up our whole plan of having no plan, by actually needing something. But it was only water, and it was close by. Then we blew more bloonies. We drank thick liquid chocolate brewed by a florist. We tried on hats and hemp. We started a jam session in a musical instrument store on strange percussions. We found wiggle face keychains. We wandered, and smiled.

A good day.